


Fuck You... And Your Metal Peg Leg

by jaybird6232



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: Alpha Brock Rumlow, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Natasha Romanov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beta Maria Hill, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Ch8 is where the smut adventure begins, Dual POV, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Omega Clint Barton, Omega Sam, Omega Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate AU, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rutting, Smut, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, There's going to be a lot of smut, Top Bucky Barnes, alpha alexander pierce, and he lets everyone know that, he's also super badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaybird6232/pseuds/jaybird6232
Summary: “Mother fu–!” Steve throws himself to the ground and covers his head, narrowly avoiding the cannon ball that plows through the ship’s wheel, destroying it completely. Steve scrambles to his feet, looking at the remnants of wood and nails with wide eyes, before fearfully turning his head to look at the ship. It’s massive, far bigger than he realized at first, and it clicks instantly in his mind that this has to be the High Captain’s ship. The Captain of theentireHydra fleet is the one who is on a mission to kill them all. On the other ship, a tall, older man wearing a large topper sends him a smirk, whispering to a few alphas beside him and pointing to Steve.Oh shit, Steve gulps nervously, taking a few cautionary steps backwards and hovering his hand over the dagger secured on his belt. The man sends him a feral smile, nodding his head in Steve’s direction. The alphas next to him disperse, tucking their swords away and climbing the netting on their ship.Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.___________________________________________________________AKA the Pirate Stucky AU nobody really asked for but got anyways





	1. Down With The Ship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LightningStriking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking/gifts).



> Hello to my wonderful readers!! This is a little something that I whipped up for my beautiful friend [LightningStriking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStriking). This is a story we had talked about awhile back, one that I had nearly forgotten about until I found it in our old chat log. This is for you, Lightning, hope you enjoy it❤︎
> 
> As always everyone, please be mindful of the tags, which will be updated as this story moves along. This story is also not checked over by a beta, so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this!!
> 
> Oh, almost forgot. I know how much you like playlists, Lightning... [Enjoy ;)](https://open.spotify.com/user/jaybird6232/playlist/6nCVNliz85zNUOrFZydB6Q)
> 
> Have this aesthetic, everyone ❤︎
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  

“Steven, talk to me! What’s going on?!”

“They’re gettin’ closer!” Steve calls out from the back of the ship, looking into his spyglass and keeping his eye on the fleet of vessels out in the distance. They don’t stand a chance, he knows this better than anyone on this poor excuse for a ship. While Natasha is the damned best Captain he’s ever sailed with, she’s no match for the army of murdering Alphas trailing close behind them. Steve hops down from the stack of boxes he used to help gain a vantage point and runs across the ship. Natasha yells orders to the crew from her position at the wheel while Steve scrambles to get below deck, trying to get to the only friends he’s ever known and warn them of their eminent demise.

Members of the crew are scrambling around the armoury, hauling barrels of gunpowder up the stairs and towards the cannons above. No matter how many cannons they fire or how many bullets they shoot, it will never be enough to take down Hydra’s fleet. Numerous ships belonging to the fucking _Royal Navy_ lay at the bottom of the ocean, and every last one of them were sunk by Hydra. Back when he joined this tiny little crew, Steve had hoped that he would never be cursed by a visit from Hydra, but it seems like his hope was wasted away.

“Samuel! Sam where are you?” Steve panics, running a nervous, skinny hand through his blond hair. Samuel is the only other omega on this ship besides Steve and Clint, and losing him would be like losing a piece of his own heart. A cannon ball hits the rigging of the ship, causing it to jolt sharply and send Steve’s tiny body flying across the lower deck. Landing roughly on the ground, it takes him a few valuable seconds to gather his wits, stop the ringing in his ears, and slowly raise his head. In doing so, he helplessly watches as another cannonball hits the ship and flies through the haul, barely missing his head by a mere couple of feet.

A firm hand grabs his shoulder, lifting Steve from the ground like he weighs nothing. “You tryin’ to get yourself killed, you asshole?!”

“Sam! Sam we gotta… Sam, we gotta go,” Steve coughs violently, his lungs burning in his heaving chest. “They’re coming, we gotta leave.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, instead he throws Steve’s arm around his shoulders and hauls him back up the stairs. Clint and Dum Dum run past them with Natasha leading the way, all three of them heading below deck and out of sight. Sam leaves Steve at the ship’s railing, yelling over the noise of cannon fire that he will be right back, letting him go and running back below deck. Steve coughs again and looks over his shoulder, eyes widening when he sees how close the fleet is now. Despite his crappy lungs, he heaves himself off the railing and runs towards the end of the ship, covering his head when a cannon shatters the ship’s mast, sending splinters of wood raining down upon his head. Steve scrambles up the stairs to reach the ship’s wheel, which he finds to be empty and unsupervised.

“Okay okay okay,” Steve stands in front of the wheel, grabbing it with shaky hands. “It can’t be that difficult.”

It turns out to be far harder than he thought. At first, the wheel refuses to turn, staying stuck in place as if it is coated with molasses. When he finally gets it to spin, the momentum nearly throws him into the crates he was standing on earlier. “Oh fuck this,” Steve growls, getting off the ground and stomping over to the wheel, grabbing it firmly with both hands. “You’re gonna fuckin’ spin, you piece a’ shit.”

With the wheel in hand and determination on his mind, Steve manages to get the wheel to cooperate with him. He laughs happily when the cannon fire begins to minimize, thinking that Hydra has finally realized that attacking them is pointless. It’s not like they have anything worthy on this ship anyways, they are only carrying a few stolen goods and a couple crates of guns; nothing major, nothing worth _destroying_ their ship for. Those senseless alphas are either drunk or in their ruts, and Steve honestly doesn’t want to find out which one it is.

But the tides seem to have a different plan for the little omega.

Steve whoops with joy when cannons stop hitting the tail of the ship, and for a second he thinks that they’re home free. That is, until, he turns his head to the left and sees the one thing he was trying to get away from. A ship from the fleet.

“Mother fu–!” Steve throws himself to the ground and covers his head, narrowly avoiding the cannon ball that plows through the ship’s wheel, destroying it completely. Steve scrambles to his feet, looking at the remnants of wood and nails with wide eyes, before fearfully turning his head to look at the ship. It’s _massive,_ far bigger than he realized at first, and it clicks instantly in his mind that this _has to be_ the High Captain’s ship. The Captain of the _entire_ Hydra fleet is the one who is on a mission to kill them all. On the other ship, a tall, older man wearing a large topper sends him a smirk, whispering to a few alphas beside him and pointing to Steve.

 _Oh shit,_ Steve gulps nervously, taking a few cautionary steps backwards and hovering his hand over the dagger secured on his belt. The man sends him a feral smile, nodding his head in Steve’s direction. The alphas next to him disperse, tucking their swords away and climbing the netting on their ship. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit._

“Steve! Steve over here!” Maria calls from the far end of the ship by the railing, waving her hands to get his attention. Turning his head, Steve sees Maria and Natasha loading the crew into the dinghies that lay tethered against the side of the vessel. If he can just make it over there, _maybe_ he can survive…

The sound of a loud thud beside him pulls his attention. Snapping his head back forward, he stumbles backwards to get away from the large, unfamiliar, terrifying alpha now standing in front of him. He’s tall and broad, scars covering his face and inked designs splaying across his skin like a map. Out of fear and the need to protect himself, Steve whips out his dagger, cradling it in his right hand. The alpha lets out a husky chuckle, cracking his knuckles and taking a step closer to Steve. Wrong move.

Steve hurls the dagger into the man’s chest within a split second, pulling out his pistol and firing into the man’s abdomen to make the damage more severe. The man cries out in pain, falling to his knees and sending Steve a glare that makes him feel like _he_ is the one who just got shot and stabbed. But he looks no less alive; if anything, there seems to be a far brighter fire in his eyes than before. Steve takes off like a shot, not looking back and running toward his friends, barely missing the cannon ball that explodes on the deck before him. He skids to a stop, looking at the massive hole with fearful eyes. That cannon ball could have hit _him_ . Who the _fuck_ does the High Captain think he is?

As Steve races to reach Maria and Natasha, more alphas swing onto the sinking ship, dropping down and watching Steve run for his life. Natasha and Maria wave for him to come, before jumping off the side of the vessel and into the dark waters below, swimming to one of the dinghies and getting in. Steve makes it to the railing, looking down at the water nervously.

“Steve let’s go!” Maria screams in distress, making her way to the end of the dinghy with Natasha by her side.

“I can’t… I can’t make that!” Steve yells in response, his breathing beginning to pick up. There is no way he can jump down, he can’t… he can’t…

“I’ll swim out and get you!” Natasha calls out, starting to rid herself of her coat and boots and preparing for his jump.

“Promise?!”

“I promise, Steven!”

Inhaling a few shaky breaths, Steve violently shoves his pistol back into his belt holster and takes a few steps back, getting ready for a running leap. The ship is slowly burning up around him, barrels of gunpowder exploding below deck and water languidly flowing through the ginormous holes in the sides of the ship. If he stays here any longer, his fate is most definitely sealed. He runs, jumping over the railing and hoping that Natasha keeps her promise of getting him.

Only, he’ll never find out.

He’s barely over the edge when he feels his shirt being grabbed roughly, his collar coming up against his neck to the point where he feels like he’s being choked. Steve twists around, despite the tight vice grip on his shirt, and faces the asshole who decided to fuck with him. Who decided to rip away his freedom in a split second. That’s when he meets a pair of stormy-grey eyes that seem to reflect the sea itself, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anything so beautiful. Steve is suddenly let go of, falling onto the deck on his ass. The new alpha looks to be distracted, so Steve scrambles to climb over the railing once more, ignoring the fiery pain trailing up his spine.

“Not so fast there, omega,” A voice says calmly, followed by the click of a gun being cocked back. Steve stops, his hands on the wood as he decides whether he should try vaulting the railing or not. He does his best to ignore the heart-wrenching screams Natasha lets out below, urging for him to jump.

_I’m sorry, Tasha…_

With a panicking heart, Steve instead turns around to face the enemy. The alpha who grabbed him is standing off to the side, looking at him with calculating eyes. Steve wants nothing more than to punch him in his beautiful face. There is a gun a few inches from his temple, and the man behind it is none other than the older man he saw on the High Captain’s ship. Taking in a hard swallow, Steve defiantly lifts his head to stare into his cold, dark eyes. “Go ahead, shoot me ya fuckin’ piece a’ shit.”

The man’s eyes widen comically and he laughs loudly, throwing his head back and tucking away his gun. “Oh shit! Looks like we’ve got a mouthy one here, boys!” The alphas surrounding Steve all let out hearty laughs, all except for the stormy-eyed brunet, who continues to study him. The older man, quite clearly the High Captain, scans his eyes over Steve’s tiny form, letting out a pleased hum of arousal. “Oh yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Don’t ya fuckin’ touch me!” Steve raises his fist and connects it with the Captain’s cheek when the other man gets far closer than Steve appreciates. The man stumbles backwards, surprised by the strength and power Steve holds in his skinny, weak body. A few alphas grab him roughly and pin him to the railing of the ship, holding his arms back and keeping him paralyzed. He fights the restraints of their fists with every cell in his body, but it is simply not enough to break free.

The Captain brings his hand to his lip, letting out an amused whistle when a few drips of blood smear onto his finger. He takes a few leisurely steps towards Steve, putting an extra hint of swagger in his hips as he steps before the angry omega. “You better watch yer’self there, little omega.”

“Bite me,” Steve growls, narrowing his eyes in a challenge. The man’s eyebrows flick upward for a split second, surprised by the omega’s resilience, before raising his once more again and smacking Steve across the head with the butt of it. The last thing he registers are the violent screams Natasha cries out from afar, before his world fades to nothingness.


	2. Drunken Endeavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That little omega catch your eye, Barnes?” Pierce questions. Bucky shakes his head with a firm ‘no’, even though this omega has indeed peaked his curiosity. The man looks as if a simple breeze from the sea could blow him over within seconds, but instead he is standing confidently at the wheel, gripping it tight. He is unlike any omega Bucky has ever admired from afar, to be quite honest.
> 
> “Let us see how strong he is,” Alexander flicks his wrist, now pointing at the omega with a steady finger. A cannon fires before Bucky can put in a word to stop it, the solid black sphere flying gracefully through the air and demolishing the wheel right before his very eyes. Holding his breath, Bucky counts under his breath. _One, two, three, four…_ As he goes on to five, the omega, seemingly undeterred by the blast, shoots up from the deck, staring at the wheel in fear before snapping his gaze towards them. The fact that the omega survived astounds Bucky, increasing his fleeting curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Whoa Jay, another chapter so soon? This isn't normal for you???"
> 
> No, indeed it is not! But the perks of writing a bunch beforehand means that I can post more frequently :)
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, my lovelies!

They’re all drunk. Insanely, over the top,  _ drunk _ . All except for Bucky, who refuses to touch a drop of alcohol after the, uh, incident in London a few years back. He sits on the railing of Captain Pierce’s ship, holding his bottle of rum casually and dumping a few drops into the ocean when no one is looking. The High Captain, Alexander Pierce, went into rut last week; mated a few unlucky omegas during the fleet’s supply docking in Northern Spain and managed to raid three ships within the last few days. All in all, it was a very productive week for them all. Now that Pierce’s rut is finally coming to an end, he saw it fit that a celebration should be held on his ship, only inviting the captains of the ships in his fleet and their first mates.

So that’s why he’s here, although he’d much rather be asleep in his cabin. His first mate ran off a little while ago with a large bottle of rum in hand, despite Bucky's insistence that drinking isn't the best idea tonight. Who knows what they could all get themselves into?

“Barnes!” Pierce calls out to him, strolling over to his favourite alpha captain. Bucky hides his grimace when Pierce pulls him into a hearty embrace, telling himself not to breathe through his nose. He has seen Pierce drunk off his rocker before, but out of every single time, this one has to take the bounty. Pierce is absolutely shitfaced, barely able to walk in a straight line without tripping over nothing but air. At this rate, they are in for a very long night.

“Captain,” Bucky replies respectfully, subtle wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of booze leaking from his High Captain. “Quite the celebration you have put together.”

“Indeed it is, Barnes. Indeed it is,” Pierce hums, cradling the bottle of rum in his hand loosely. “Just you wait, you will get one hell of a celebration when you hit your rut!”

“I will wait very patiently for that day, Captain.” Bucky answers, pulling a tight lipped smile across his features.

Pierce grins back, opening his mouth to progress their conversation when a shout emanates from the far end of the ship. “Captain! Looks like we’ve got ourselves a runner!” The call comes from Brock, Bucky’s first mate, who is hanging from the crow’s nest and pointing out into the distance. Out on the water is none other than a ship, about the size of an average transport vessel, bearing a massive red and black flag.  _ The Widow, _ Bucky thinks vaguely as he follows Pierce obediently to the end of the ship. He has not heard much talk of the crew that sail on  _ The Widow _ , but he knows enough about them to understand that Pierce will want them to take a blow for his own amusement.

“What do you say, gentlemen? Care for some evening festivities?” Pierce hollars, turning to face his crew for the night. The crew lets out a collective cheer, one Bucky must fake for his own well being. Chasing ships and destroying them for Pierce’s enjoyment has never been something he particularly enjoyed, finding it cruel and pointless. There is no need to perform such horrendous actions, for Hydra is the richest, most feared fleet on the ocean. Quite honestly there is no point, but that does not stop Pierce from sending Brock to man the ship’s wheel, setting them on course for a fight. Bucky grimaces when Pierce gives him a hearty clap on the back, “If there is something you desire on that ship, you have my word that it shall be yours.”

“Thank you, Captain. I am greatly honoured.” Bucky gives his Captain a firm nod, accepting the ‘gift’ he never originally wanted without question.

The first fire from the cannon takes Bucky by surprise, jolting his body to the side. Looking over the railing of the ship, he notices that they are gaining on  _ The Widow _ quicker than he initially anticipated. Another series of shots ring out, followed by shouts of celebration when the cannonballs collide with their target. A dull explosion goes off on board of the other ship, sending barrels and people off the side of the vessel. Bucky can vaguely see a fire spark on the deck of the ship, so he sends up a silent prayer for  _ The Widow’s _ crews’ safety; as he does before every raid.

He is a pirate, not a monster. Regardless of the fact that many people chose to ignore the difference.

Within a few minutes, holes from cannonballs litter the other ship, water most definitely leaking through them and beginning to sink the poor excuse of a ‘sturdy’ vessel. Bucky swallows hard as they sail right beside it, anxious to see the damage they have caused to this ship. Barrels lit in scorching flames roll across the deck in tandem with the ocean current, falling below deck and causing ear deafening explosions. The mast of the ship is completely destroyed, over three quarters of it hanging off the side and causing  _ The Widow _ to tilt dangerously. Most of the crew, he notices, is near the far end of the ship, all except for a small man at the wheel, furiously calling out to the rest of his crew. Pierce strolls over to Bucky’s side, smirking and raising his hand elegantly into the air, “Ceasefire for a moment, gentlemen.”

The crew does as they are told, standing beside the cannons as they wait for further instructions from their Captain. Bucky turns his head to gaze at Pierce curiously, “Sir?”

“That little omega catch your eye, Barnes?” Pierce questions. Bucky shakes his head with a firm ‘no’, even though this omega has indeed peaked his curiosity. The man looks as if a simple breeze from the sea could blow him over within seconds, but instead he is standing confidently at the wheel, gripping it tight. He is unlike any omega Bucky has ever admired from afar, to be quite honest.

“Let us see how strong he is,” Alexander flicks his wrist, now pointing at the omega with a steady finger. A cannon fires before Bucky can put in a word to stop it, the solid black sphere flying gracefully through the air and demolishing the wheel right before his very eyes. Holding his breath, Bucky counts under his breath.  _ One, two, three, four… _ As he goes on to five, the omega, seemingly undeterred by the blast, shoots up from the deck, staring at the wheel in fear before snapping his gaze towards them. The fact that the omega survived astounds Bucky, increasing his fleeting curiosity.

“Gentlemen,” Pierce orders smoothly. “Bring me the omega. Alive.”

Despite Bucky’s twisted gut feeling, he obeys his Captain’s orders. He runs to the Jacob’s ladder near the main mast of the ship, climbing up to a good ten feet and looking out upon the deck of  _ The Widow, _ searching for a decent place to land. As soon as he establishes one, Bucky leans back and leaps from the ladder. He falls on the deck roughly, tripping over his own feet and tumbling onto the ground.  _ Stupid fucking leg, _ Bucky curses himself, referring to the metal appendage in place of his left leg. Again, being drunk in London never did Bucky any good.

Standing up, Bucky observes the ship quickly, looking for the small omega. Only to find him stabbing  _ and _ shooting his first mate. Anger and fury rolls through Bucky’s body as he breaks out into a sprint to reach Brock, his previous desire slightly deterred by the fact that the omega might have  _ killed _ his first mate. Upon reaching him, Bucky falls to his knees beside Brock, worry shadowing his face as his hands hover over the dagger.

“Just pull it out, Barnes!” Brock huffs through his teeth, clutching his abdomen in an effort to stop the blood. Brock is putting on a brave façade, as he usually does whenever an injury presents itself on his flesh. Without another word, Bucky pulls the dagger from Brock’s chest in one swift motion, tossing it to the side as if it was on fire. Brock yelps out in pain, his body arching violently before falling back to the deck. His first mate looks at him with an angry, determined stare, “Go get that little fucker.”

Jumping to his feet, Bucky leaves Brock’s side to search for the omega. It doesn’t take long to find him, for he is shouting out into the water from the end of the ship. He appears to be getting ready to jump, if the way he is backing up to take a running leap is not a clear enough indication. Bucky cannot let him leave, because in turn that will simply upset the High Captain and have his ass on the line. So Bucky makes a mad dash towards his target, clearing a giant hole in the deck with a single, effortless jump. He reaches the omega right as the latter makes to vault the railing, anger in his eyes as he roughly grabs at the shirt, restricting the omega of any possible escape. No one injures a member of his crew and gets away with it, not if he has something to say about it.

Only, the words get caught in his throat when the omega twists fiercely in his hold, and he stares into the most beautiful pair of eyes he has ever seen. They seem to reflect the sky itself on a bright, warm, joyful day; so blue and full of life that it fills Bucky with the strangest feeling he has ever experienced. Not something he can easily put a name to nor define easily, but it is enough to take over his entire body and leave him clueless, but no less curious. His hand, against his own determination and previous state of anger, falls open, releasing the omega and granting him a method of escape.  _ Oh shit, wait, no. I am supposed to be capturing you, come back here. _ Attempting to make a grab for the omega again, he only gets as far as to holding his hand out when he hears the sharp, deadly sound of a gun being cocked back and a voice calmly speaking, “Not so fast there, omega.”

Pierce.

Bucky stands up straight, acknowledging the presence of his High Captain quietly. A part of him fears for the omega’s life, knowing just how unforgiving Pierce can truly be. Especially during his post-rut. But another part of him feels ashamed. He did not perform his duty effectively, did not carry out the orders given to him only a few minutes before. Under normal circumstances, Bucky can carry out orders without question, without giving the slight bit of care towards Hydra’s victim. But these are, in no way, normal circumstances; normal precedences have never piqued Bucky’s curiosity the way this omega has managed to do within a few mere seconds. He doesn’t even know the poor thing’s name, but deep down he wants to know everything about the shaking man standing before him.

James Buchanan Barnes is no normal pirate, he knows this fact better than anything else. The stigma that is shadowed over pirates gives him the urge to vomit; not all pirates are murderous scoundrels, only looking for gold and riches and a good hole to fuck when needed. No. Bucky had the privilege to be raised by a magnificent mother, who drilled respect and courtesy into his soul when he was only a young lad, teaching him that no matter where the world takes him, to always apply kindness and love where it is most desperately needed. Of course, by now, Bucky’s ledger is nowhere near stain-free. He has killed and murdered to save his own skin and that of his crew, but only if the need to do so was presently necessary.

His behavior grants him punishment in the end. Bucky’s problem is that he cares too much about the innocent, something Pierce and the rest of the members of Hydra pay no mind to. While he has gotten his caring nature under a fair amount of control, he can never be too cautious. If Pierce decides to capture this small omega and take him prisoner, well, Bucky must make sure that he does not become close. Or he might start caring about the omega, and that will not do anyone a bit of good. 

“Go ahead, shoot me ya fuckin’ piece a’ shit.” The omega speaks defiantly, jutting out his chin. The sound of the omega’s voice is enough to send Bucky’s mind spinning; he did not expect it to be as deep or as smooth as it is, but now that he has heard it, he notices how well it seems to… fit, with the omega. What also surprises the brunet is the pure level of  _ confidence _ that the omega has. Bucky has never seen anyone speak to Pierce so wickedly, let alone speak to Pierce at all without permission to do so. This little guy has got guts, and that may very well have him killed.

“Oh shit! Looks like we’ve got a mouthy one here, boys!” Pierce exclaims as he stores his gun into his belt holster. The crew of alphas surrounding them all burst into hearty laughter, sincerely amused by the the omega. Yet Bucky isn’t laughing, for he is far too busy studying the omega, his eyes roaming over the genuine beauty before him. His alpha hindbrain demands that he keep the omega safe from harm, but the pirate in him tells him to stay focused. “Oh yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Don’t ya fuckin’ touch me!” The omega shouts, raising his fist and clocking Pierce straight in the jaw. That… that is definitely something Bucky has never seen done before. Sure, he has thought about doing it, countless times, but he could never and will never be able to muster up the courage to actually  _ do _ it. Pierce is his Captain, not his friend; punching the old man is an occasional thought that passes through his mind. He surely cannot be the only one who feels this way.

Pierce brings his hand to his lip, letting out an amused whistle when a few drips of blood appear on his finger. He takes a few calculated steps towards the the omega currently pinned against the ship railing, courtesy of a few dedicated members of Pierce’s crew. Bucky is still standing off to the side, worry beginning to take shape in a uneven scowl. “You better watch yer’self there, little omega.”

“Bite me,” The omega growls back, narrowing his eyes in a challenge and leaning his head forward. Pierce raises his eyebrows slightly in genuine surprise, before unholstering his gun once more and smacking the omega across the head, putting him into an immediate state of slumber.

The omega slumps forward, his head dropping in his unconscious state. Pierce holsters his gun and straightens his coat, buttoning it gracefully. “Right. Barnes, take him in my cabin. You will find chains on the far side; lock him up. He needs a…  _ safe…  _ place to wake up to.”

Bucky simply nods, deciding not to argue and only do as he is told. Taking a few steps to close the distance, he gathers the omega in his arms and lifts him easily. The omega is as light as he initially thought, definitely no more than fifty kilograms maximum, if that. But the omega’s weight is the last thing on his mind, for now he is too preoccupied with worrying about the omega’s safety.  _ Please Lord, grant him Your safe hands, _ Bucky asks silently, slowly carrying the omega across the burning ship.  _ Keep him safe from Pierce. _

It does not take long to transfer the omega from the remnants of  _ The Widow _ to Pierce’s cabin, less than a few minutes if anyone was taking count. Bucky gently places the omega on the ground of the cabin, locating the chains Pierce mentioned with ease. Guiding the metal clasps toward the omega and clamping them down on the man’s wrists, he finally realizes how sickly looking the omega really is. The blond’s wrists are as dainty as a woman’s, his skin as pale as starch. But the man looks oddly peaceful in his sleep-rendered state. Bucky’s heart does a peculiar flutter in his chest, and as he stares down at the tiny, unconscious, captivating little omega sprawled out on the floor of his High Captain’s cabin, he begins to wonder if everything he’s been told about the seas is true… 

Is it so very wrong to care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you liked this, be sure to leave a comments/kudos, because it is the support that encourages me to keep writing!! :)
> 
> Come party with me on [Tumblr](https://jaybird6232.tumblr.com/)


	3. Consensual Outcry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come,” Bucky husks, tugging on the chain and leading the omega across the ship towards his cabin. He feels some resistance on the line, but eventually manages to pull the stubborn omega into his cabin, shutting the door behind them. Dropping the bindings to the ground, Bucky slides the hefty lock on his door to the side, securing them both in the room and preventing his crew from attempting to enter.
> 
> When he turns around however, he is surprised to find himself suddenly pressed up against the door, a knife dancing against his jugular and an angry omega in his face. His eyes go wide and his head tilts back a few centimeters, trying to let his jaw escape. But the omega simply brings the knife higher, right beneath his chin as he growls, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fucking kill you right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Sorry for the late update on this story, I've been busy with school and life in general. But I'm back with this little gem, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> **Side note: So there is a small phrase of _Latin_ in this chapter. I, personally, cannot read or write latin; I used Google Translate. If anyone knows if the phrase is incorrect, please let me know!!**
> 
> As usual, heed the warnings and my unbeta'd (is that how you spell that in the plural form? XD help) writing. I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

Steve awakens with a hurtful groan, a sharp, throbbing pain against his skull making him let out a small hiss of discomfort. He refuses to open his eyes, trying to get a sense of where he is first. He can still hear the ocean, which in part sends some relief through him. Yet it also terrifies him, because the ocean took everything away from him last night. Or was it last night? How long has he been out? Steve isn’t sure, his mental clock too disconfigured and disoriented at the moment to give him a proper answer.

There is a heavy weight on his wrists, possibly iron by the feel of it. It is keeping him shackled in place, restricting him of a method of escape or freedom. He is sitting on wood flooring; cold, hard wood that makes his rippled back scream out in pain, urging him to find some form of relief soon. His hands are clammy. sweat finding itself dripping down his face in smooth streams, nervousness making a clear statement on his expression.

“Oh marvelous, you are finally awake.” A voice hums mockingly, making Steve shiver in fear. He recognizes that voice; that cynical, heartless, cocky-outlook laced voice. Steve squints his eyes open, groaning again when he sees the grey, overcast light pouring in from the large window. But he stays strong, doing his best to ignore the blinding light of the cloudy skies. While there seems to be no logic in that statement, Steve knows better than anyone that overcast skies are just as deadly as clear, cloudless skies. The sun, and clouds, have no mercy for the pale.

“I was wondering how long it would take a little fella like yer’self.”

“How long have I been out?” Steve grunts, not acknowledging the Captain’s statement.

“About two days, give or take.” The man says, walking to a large desk in the centre of the room and grabbing a glass marquis from a tray, pouring the contents into a small chalice. Steve does his best to sit up properly, ignoring the lingering stare from the man who is casually leaning against the desk and drinking languidly. “Never thought a weak little thing like you would actually wake. But you are just _full_ of surprises, I’ve noticed.”

Steve refuses to answer, opting instead to stare ahead at the door and discount the blabbering man. The alpha lets out a husky chuckle, setting down his drink and folding his arms gracefully. “I take it you do not know who I am?” Again, Steve does not open his mouth to speak. The man nods his head, coming to realize that Steve is a hard nut to crack.

“I,” The man walks over to Steve, crouching down before him. “Am none other than Alexander Pierce.”

Despite Steve’s pursuit to keep silent, he lets out a small indignant snort. _This_ is the supposed Alexander Pierce that he has heard so much about? Steve thought Pierce would be taller, broader, more… frightening. Yet two days ago, Steve managed to strike the old sea hag without a thought. He can even spot the remains of a bruise on his cheek. That alone makes him smirk.

“What is the laughing matter, omega?”

Steve chuckles like a mad man, rolling his head around until it falls onto his shoulder, sending Pierce a sly grin. “You are not nearly as terrifying as everyone portrays you to be.”

Pierce frowns uncomfortably, as if Steve has personally attacked his ego. It earns him a slap across the face, the sound echoing throughout the room in waves. Steve opens his mouth, moving his lower jaw carefully in an effort to alleviate the sharp, stinging pain consuming the right half of his face. Pierce grabs Steve’s face roughly in one hand, causing their eyes to meet. “I’ll teach you just how terrifying I can can be.”

The alpha unlocks the chain from the wall, pulling Steve to his feet violently. Steve staggers at his newfound position, nearly falling over from the momentum. Pierce pulls on the chain hard, leading Steve to a bed he never noticed originally. Steve’s face falls dramatically, fear lacing itself in his features. He knows where this goes, and he wants no part of it.

“No!” Steve fists his hands together and yanks back on the chain, ripping it from Pierce’s grip. _Wow, he can’t even hold a goddamned chain… how unsurprising._ Steve honestly did not believe that it would be so easy to escape, this is child’s play. However Pierce, seemingly not expecting Steve to put up a fight right away, turns around angrily, staring at the omega with a murderous glare.

“Get on the bed, omega.” Pierce demands, taking a step towards Steve. In response, Steve takes a mirrored step back, gathering the chain in his hands to deny Pierce the option of grabbing it once more. With survival and self-preservation on his mind, Steve makes a shaky getaway towards the door, his legs begging him to stop due to the immense pain coursing through them from sitting on the ground for two days. He makes it to the door, nearly crying out in relief when he discovers that it is unlocked, and pulls it open.

Steve scrambles to get out on deck, tripping over his own feet and falling roughly to the cold, water soaked wood. “No!” Steve screams, attracting the attention of Pierce’s crew instantly. He turns around, sitting on his butt and staring at Pierce with a heaving chest. His actions may very well have him killed, but he would rather die than let the Devil himself fuck him without his explicit permission. “You do not have my consent, you bastard!”

___________________________________________________________

 

London. It is just as Bucky remembers; cold, dim with overcast skies, and smelly. Even though they are a mile from the docking harbour, his nose picks up the distinct smell of sewage and garbage, making him want to tie a rag around his mouth to keep himself from breathing in the putrid scent. They’ve come here to restock their supplies, even though they already did this earlier last week, and meet up with the rest of the fleet, allowing all the captains on Pierce’s ship to go back to their respective vessels. Not exactly the smartest idea if you’d ask Bucky; they’d be sitting ducks for the Royal Navy, asking to be taken into custody.

But his worries slip away when he spots his ship, _Mors Hibernis_ , the _Death by Winter_ , anchored on the coastline awaiting his return. He misses his cabin, the soft silk sheets of his bed, and the fruits he keeps on his desk. Bucky hopes that his crew stocked up on his fruits, the only thing he requested for them to do in his absence. He misses the flow and harmony of his crew, how they make their tasks effortless and graceful with each passing day; he misses the thrill of sailing the seas, the ship under his control, the tides and winds pushing the large vessel in the direction of his desired location.

Changing his thoughts, he brings himself back to reality; tying up the rigging and conversing with a member of the crew. Bucky throws in a few phrases when he feels up to it, but most of his concentration is on getting the sails hoisted and stored. That’s when he hears a loud crash behind him. He and the alpha beside him turn sharply, looking around for the origin of the noise. It’s the omega from a few evenings ago, sprawled out on the deck and yelling profanities at Pierce. Setting down the rope, Bucky steps closer to the scene before him.

The omega shouts, cradling the cuffs and chains, the very ones Bucky had placed on him, to his chest. “You do not have my consent, you bastard!”

Bucky frowns, crossing his arms and looking upon his High Captain with disgust, who is huddled in the doorway of his cabin, humiliation keeping him frozen in place. “Get back inside, you little shit.”

The omega shakes his head, slowly gathering his bearings and standing up. He’s hunched over, so much so that Bucky can see the faint outline of his spine through his thin white blouse; he wonders when the omega had his last meal, or even a drink of clean water. “I will do no such thing!”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me perfectly clear. You have no respect, not even for a pirate! How _dare_ you call yourself a Captain; you have no decency to ask for _consent_! You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Bucky’s hands drop to his sides when Pierce pulls out his pistol and aims for the omega’s head, his own fists tightening until they are as white as pearls. “I don’t need your consent, you filthy rat.”

“You _always_ need consent, you ass.” The omega retorts, his small fists balling up around his loose restraints. This man seems to have no fearful bone in his skimpy, little body, and that alone makes Bucky proud. And afraid. He is going to get himself killed if this dispute continues. “Go on, shoot me. _Kill me_. Everyone already knows what you really are, an insolent, pathetic excuse of a human being.”

Before Pierce grasps the opportunity to place a bullet in the omega’s delicate brain, Bucky runs from the ship’s railing and towards the two men arguing, easily slipping in-between them and protecting the omega from the line of fire. A risky move, he knows, but he is willing to take any form of punishment thrown at him as long as he can keep the omega safe for a little longer. It’s an impulsive move as well, one he was only half-sure he would truly take.

“Captain,” Bucky whispers, keeping their conversation private and concealed from the rest of the crew. “Do you recall what you said a few nights ago when we captured this omega?”

“Barnes, remove yourself. Now.”

“You said that if there is anything on the ship that I desired, I could have it,” Bucky pushes, attempting to dissuade Pierce from the situation. How he is acting can get him killed in a second flat; however, he doubts the man will murder his best fleet Captain in cold blood. Pierce’s gaze turns dark, his eyes cutting towards him as he snarls, “Do not tell me that you desire _this omega_.”

“I do,”

_“Why?”_ Betrayal shadows itself upon Pierce’s face, causing Bucky to grit his teeth together and conjure up an excuse on the spot. “Rut’s comin’ Captain, I’ll be in need of a decent omega. He will do nicely.”

It is a lie if Bucky has ever told one. His rut is not even due for at _least_ a few months, and even if it _was_ coming up soon, he would never place this poor omega into sex-trap. Bucky is not Pierce, not in the slightest comparison. He does not even plan on fucking this omega, not without his consent _and_ approval _and_ desire. Sex and knotting are supposed to be sacred acts between people who care about each other, not something meaningless to toss aside. Knowing Bucky, caring will not be on the agenda. Therefore, no sex. In all truth, he simply wants to help this omega live to see tomorrow.

Pierce grips the gun tighter in his hand, seemingly pondering whether or not he should blast the back-talking omega in the head. To Bucky’s immense relief, the High Captain sighs, accepting and resigned. His arm lowers, gloved hand holstering the pistol in defeat before standing up straight, his authoritative persona covering him in a cloak.

“Docking now, Captain!” Pierce’s first mate shouts from the wheel. Pierce turns his head, looking upon the city now, basked in a low morning haze, before speaking harshly, “Go. Get the rat off my ship.”

Nodding curtly, Bucky takes a step back and allows a happy shiver run through his body. He did something good. Something to help him sleep a bit easier tonight. Bucky spins on his heel, walking towards the shaken omega who looks terrified and simply alone. Which he is; Bucky understands that it is his doing that put the omega in this position, and despite all the terrible crimes he has committed during this lifetime, none have ever seemed to affect him this deeply.

“No no no, don’t touch me—!” The omega begins, taking a step back when Bucky reaches him, curling his fists around the chains shackled to him. Bucky does not let him continue, instead grabbing the chain and pulling the smaller man closer to him, mumbling quietly into his ear, “Stop fighting and you might live. I’m trying to help you.”

“Why you fucking piece of—” The omega cuts himself when Bucky simply raises his eyebrows. Pleading. Begging. Not something a pirate does willingly nor frequently. Promptly, the omega snaps his mouth shut, but is no less upset. His eyebrows are furrowed pointedly, those distinctive, gorgeous eyes are hard and agitated; the poor guy in all likelihood cursing Bucky out in his mind. And he has every right, he would not be here if it was not for Bucky.

With the ship presently docked in the harbour, Bucky follows his first mate off Pierce’s ship, the chained up omega tailing them both. It is not like he has a choice in the matter regardless, he is chained up for Christ’s sake. Due to the early morning hours, the London harbour is relatively quiet, the bustle of the busy day ahead not yet tainting the cobblestone paths with scuffed boots and cargo crates. Perfect timing to hit the town, for the authorities would not dare to make noise at this time of the day.

It is a short walk to his ship, the one he has been longing to board for the past week. The large, dark wood paneled ship that reminds him of his home. His crew greets him upon his embarkment with hearty cheers and peculiar looks directed towards the omega in his current ‘possession’. A few men attempt to take a step towards the both of them, thinking that their Captain has brought them a gift, but the low growl from Bucky causes them to shift their path, turning around and attending to their duties upon the vessel. He angles his head to discretely cast his gaze upon his newfound companion, smiling slightly when he sees the omega’s awed expression as the man takes in the entirety of the ship.

The mast that seems to accompany the tallest building in London, glowering over them in a subtle silence. The wheel, perfect shaped and smoothed to Bucky’s liking, painted and carved with intricate designs only capable of being crafted by the most talented of artists. The small _‘R’_ he carved into his cabin door to remind him of the sister he once had, the small rune hidden from wandering eyes in a place only Bucky knows. The grand set of stairs that line both sides of the ship, one leading to the wheel, the other leading towards the cargo hold. While it is not perfect or outstanding, it is his. Quite possibly his only possession.

“Come,” Bucky husks, tugging on the chain and leading the omega across the ship towards his cabin. He feels some resistance on the line, but eventually manages to pull the stubborn omega into his cabin, shutting the door behind them. Dropping the bindings to the ground, Bucky slides the hefty lock on his door to the side, securing them both in the room and preventing his crew from attempting to enter.

When he turns around however, he is surprised to find himself suddenly pressed up against the door, a knife dancing against his jugular and an angry omega in his face. His eyes go wide and his head tilts back a few centimeters, trying to let his jaw escape. But the omega simply brings the knife higher, right beneath his chin as he growls, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t fucking kill you right now.”

_Holy shit, he’s even prettier up close._ Swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple tapping the blade lightly, Bucky parts his lips, running his tongue over the chapped skin delicately. “I don’t have one.” And it is true, Bucky has no decent excuse to give the audacious omega. He has seen too much, done things people only have fleeting nightmares about. Normally, Bucky would have the omega pressed to the floor at this point, begging for his life and denying him a method of escape; yet there is just _something_ intriguing to him about the man, _something_ that lights the fire in Bucky’s heart, _something_ that is stopping him from hurting him.

The omega’s eyes bore into his own, his features softening slightly before returning to their murderous state. “Good answer,” Bucky shuts his eyes when the omega’s body shifts, expecting to feel the sharp, stinging pain of the knife slicing through his airway. Only it never comes. A thud beside his ear causes him to open his eyes once more. The omega still appears to be upset, as he has every right to be, however the knife is no longer in his hand and he is moving to peel himself off of Bucky’s body. Bucky opens his mouth in surprise, staring at the omega as the latter takes a step back, before turning his head to look at the blade.

“You didn’t kill me,” Bucky says softly, stating the obvious and looking at the dagger with curiosity. It is his own, he realizes. How the omega managed to swipe it off him without his knowing pulls a timid, yet fearful smile across his lips. Forget sleeping easy tonight, this omega is going to kill him in his sleep, he is sure of it. Said omega is now walking across the cabin, taking in every elaborate detail and committing it to memory. Looking across the vast desk made from the finest wood in Spain; the large set of windows displayed right behind it, giving them a seemingly stunning view of the harbour; the enormous bed and dresser off to the side of the room, waiting to be used.

“Well, you surely weren’t made a Captain for being smart.”

“But why?” The question is open and honest, lacing itself with interest, not at all caring that the omega blatantly sassed him. He thought he was a dead man, no real reason to think differently. He took the omega’s chance of escape, of a life far from the sea, all because he was ordered to do so. Death seemed to be his likely punishment. The omega shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, sighing, and slowly turning around to look at Bucky, “You spared my life, thought I should return the sentiment.”

“What makes you think that I will be sparing your life _now_?”

His question earns him another shrug. “You would have left me with Alexander if you wanted me dead. And you didn’t. I believe that it is fair for me to assume that you won’t be killing me. Now get these shackles off of me.”

“Mmm,” Bucky hums, pushing himself off the door and pulling the knife from the wood, effectively tucking it away. “You’re demanding, little omega.”

“And you’re an asshole,” The omega wrinkles his nose, scrunching it adorably. “Who _kidnapped_ me. I have a right to be demanding.”

“It was not exactly my idea, omega.” Bucky mutters, walking towards the man before brushing past him, going to his desk. He pulls out a chair, moving his hand to gesture to the seat. Wordlessly, the omega sits his butt down on the large wooden chair, pushing his wrists out for Bucky when the brunet crosses in front of him. “No my idea at all.”

“Yet you still did it.”

“It was an order.” Bucky reaches into his back trouser pocket, extracting the standard issue key given to all the Captains of Hydra, and carefully guiding it to the lock on the shackles. The metal falls to the ground at the turn of the key, the omega rubbing at the red marks on his wrists delicately, trying to soothe the mild pain before he speaks, “Yeah, well, I don’t follow orders that go against my morals.”

Bucky chuckles, coiling up the shackles and gently placing them in a drawer of his desk, tucking them away in hopes to never see them again. “Eventually that’s going to get you killed, omega. Especially that mouth of yours.” _That very, very pretty mouth of yours._

“I have a name, you know,” The omega huffs indignantly, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “And ‘tis awfully offensive to only call me by my breeding rank.”

“Well,” Bucky reaches over to the freshly stocked fruit bowl standing idly on his desk, grabbing an apple for himself and tossing one to the omega, who catches it without even sparing him a glance. Taking a bite of the sweet, tangy goodness, Bucky chews quietly. “Enlighten me then.”

“Steve,” Steve, apparently, mutters gently, taking his own bite of the apple as if he has not seen a speck of food in a week. And the thought of this man not being able to have proper access to food makes Bucky’s gut twist into a piercing, uncomfortable knot. He is already far too skinny to be skipping meals as it is. “It’s Steve.”

_Steve_. Nodding silently, Bucky plays Steve’s name over and over repeatedly in his head. It has a gracious ring to it, seeming to fit the omega quite nicely. He watches Steve finish his apple slowly, savouring every bite and drop of juice as if he fears he will not be seeing food for awhile after this. Now that Steve will be under his care— no, his _protection_ ; he does not _care—_ he will make sure that the omega has enough to eat, and then some.

“Okay. Steve,” Bucky swallows the bite of apple he has in his mouth and sets the half-eaten fruit in his hand down on his desk. “Help yourself to anything you desire. Here, you are not my prisoner. You are welcome to leave at any time if you wish, yet you must understand that if that is what you decide to do, I will not protect you outside. My crew will do what they wish. Understood?”

Steve’s mouth parts slightly, his eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Why are you showing me kindness?”

Bucky smirks, standing before the other man with confidence. “I am a pirate, Steve. Not a monster.” With that, he goes to leave Steve to his own devices, not knowing what the omega will ultimately decide. He may come back to a deserted cabin later this evening, Steve utterly vacant from the premises. Or, maybe not. He will have to wait to see what the tide has in store for him. Bucky reaches the door, pulling back the lock and opening it when he hears Steve’s voice call out to him, “Wait, what… I don’t even know _your_ name. I told you mine.”

Standing in the open doorway, Bucky ponders for a few seconds, debating whether or not to share his true name, the name he strongly prefers. Not something he has ever told his crew either. Everyone in the Hydra fleet knows him as _‘Barnes’_ . The only people to ever call him _‘Bucky’_ were his loved ones and childhood friends. But looking upon the omega’s face, its sharp contours laced with interest, he decides that no harm could come to them if they kept this a secret. “Well, Steve, you can, uh, you can call me… Bucky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this! Be sure to leave a comment/kudos if you did, it's the support that keeps me writing! ❤︎


	4. As You Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I’m here now, obviously I can’t go anywhere else unfortunately. What do you plan on doing with me? Selling me? Because I _swear_ –”
> 
> “No, Steve. Stop, no. I will not be doing that to you,”
> 
> “Then what good am I to you?” Steve demands, abruptly standing up from his seat. “There is no _reason_ for me to be here!”
> 
> “What would you like me to do Steve?! Would you rather had stayed with Pierce?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovelies! Sorry that this chapter has come so late. There is a lot going on in my life right now, so I'm not as on top of things as I would like to be. Basically, cancer is a bitch and we really need a fucking cure right about now.
> 
> This is a relatively short chapter, my apologies, dear readers. I will try to have the next one up by the weekend so you can have your fill on this story :P
> 
> Enjoy!

To Bucky’s absolute joy, one he will never mention to any living, breathing soul on this earth, Steve is still in his cabin when he returns later on that evening. Bucky opens the door to find Steve resting on his bony knees on the chair, legs tucked underneath him as his body hunches over Bucky’s large wooden desk. The map that Bucky uses to travel from country to country, island to island, is opened wide, spread out across the workspace and draping languidly off the sides. Near Steve lies a compass, a stick of charcoal, and a small jar of ink, along with a now empty basket that had contained fruits only a few hours ago. Now, it is filled to the brim with apple cores, peach and plum pits, and additionally several banana peels as well. It amazes Bucky that Steve could devour so much sustenance in such a short amount of time, and he makes note to replenish the fruit before bunking down for the night.

“Your map is wrong,” Steve states simply, chewing on yet another banana and not giving room for an argument. He’s still looking at the parchment spread out before him, not visually acknowledging Bucky’s presence but regarding it nonetheless. Bucky stares at him dumbly, not knowing what to say except for, “You’re still here.”

“Indeed I am… you sound surprised,” It would be a blatant lie if Bucky were to say otherwise. If Steve was able to snatch his knife from his very body without giving him the slightest bit of knowledge of his action, he has no doubt that the omega could have easily slipped off the face of the ship and escaped no problem. But here he is, gourging his way through Bucky’s fruit, smearing charcoal and ink across his hands and forearms, looking as comfortable as ever. Steve, despite Bucky’s attempts to not become close, has become rather intriguing to the alpha, the latter having never before met an omega who had nearly slit his throat upon their first formal meeting. To say that he is not interested would be yet another lie.

“Your map is still wrong,” Steve repeats, swallowing the rest of the banana in one gulp and throwing the peel into the basket. He picks up the ink quill with such grace and elegance for a pirate that it leaves Bucky simply amazed. “America is forty knots too far North than it is supposed to be. And Greece is not even on here.”

Bucky cannot think of a good response to Steve’s claim. He knew that the map was not completely accurate, judging by how often he and his crew had gone off course within the last few months, yet he did not know how severe the flaws truly were. He is far more distracted and confused by the fact that Steve decided to stay than to presently worry about his map. Maybe it was the fruit that persuaded Steve to stick around?

Steve lets out an indignant snort, rolling his eyes dramatically when Bucky doesn’t speak up. “Of course, typical. Don't mind if I fix this? Great.”

Bucky stays by the door, watching with pure fascination as the omega’s hands glide across the paper, transferring landmarks committed to memory onto the parchment spread before him. To him, it looks like magic. And yes, he should be offended that Steve plainly called out his skills as a Captain, and he should punish him for doing so. But he simply cannot bring himself to hurt the poor man. He would rather stand by and watch Steve create art that surpasses anything he has ever seen before, than scold the omega.

“Okay…” Bucky finally peels himself from his door, slowly walking over to his bed at the far end of the cabin. He pulls of his coat and hat, gently placing the garments upon his sheets before turning around once more, loosening his shirt cuffs as he makes his way back to his desk and the omega. Now standing before him, Bucky takes a moment to admire Steve; the way his hair falls to the side, covering half his face in a golden curtain; the smudges of charcoal gracing his cheekbones, the mess somehow making him more beautiful; his bright blues eyes drifting over the parchment, scanning his workspace before colouring over it with detailed designs. Bucky has never been so enamoured by what many would think to be a simple sight, and he is not very sure where this new behaviour of his is coming from. Clearing his thoughts with a small shake of his head, Bucky leans over to get a better look of the map, and lets out a small whistle of admiration at the omega’s skill. “You’re quite talented, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly, lowering the quill to look upon his handiwork with a careful eye, before carefully blowing on the parchment to dry the ink. “My mother taught me.”

“She must have been very talented as well,” Bucky compliments, giving Steve a courteous nod before walking over to his whiskey tray. Mind you, there is not one speck of alcohol in his cabin, instead the glass vases are filled to the brim with crystal clear water, sparkling like the ocean itself. Bucky fills a glass for himself, as well as one for Steve, bringing it over to the other man and being careful not to spill. “Water?”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Steve accepts the glass nervously, placing the quill in his hand on the table and carefully cradling the liquid in both hands. With an appreciative smile, Bucky takes a seat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, crossing his legs and taking a drink of the refreshment as he looks upon Steve. The sharp definition of his cheekbones and nose, the smooth contours of his neck, the way his collarbones tease their way out of Steve’s shirt. Steve looks like an angel, quite similar to the ones he sees drawn upon the church walls of Spain. The blue of his eyes is unlike anything Bucky has ever witnessed before; they seem to sparkle like sun-kissed waves, shimmering like sea glass. And his smell,  _ oh god his smell, _ it drives Bucky delirious. It’s sweet, like cocoa and cream with a hint of strawberries. He’s never experienced anything so pleasurable, so —  _ stop it, Barnes. _

“You know, I don’t get you,” Steve mumbles before he takes a sip of his water, letting out a small hum of appreciation. Poor thing probably hasn’t had anything to drink since they–  _ Bucky _ –captured him. Surely Bucky can manage looking him in the eyes, but the bobbing of Steve’s throat has become quite the distraction.  _ Focus Bucky, focus. _

“What do you not get?”

“The fact that you’re being so… so  _ kind _ to me. Granted, you did prevent me from escaping, so, you know, fuck you for that,” Bucky snorts at Steve’s comment, uttering a small apology and earning a smile from Steve. “But… you… I don’t know, saved? You saved me from Alexander. And you didn’t have to do that.”

“Well… I figured that since I, well, I stopped you from going with your crew… The least I could do was get you to safety.”

Steve narrows his eyes, analyzing Bucky’s response carefully. He takes another drink of water, and Bucky will admit that he has to look away from the sight of Steve’s pretty lips closing around the glass. Steve finishes off the water with a smooth polish, setting down the glass upon the desk before leaning back, propping his legs up as if  _ he _ was the Captain. No, it is definitely not arousing or appealing, not at all. Nope.

“I would have been perfectly safe if you wouldn’ta captured me,” Steve growls, causing Bucky to nearly choke on his water. One minute, Steve is thanking him. The next, Bucky is being harassed for an action that he could not have prevented. Of course, he  _ could _ have disobeyed Pierce’s orders, yet what good would that grant him? “But I’m here now, obviously I can’t go anywhere else unfortunately. What do you plan on doing with me? Selling me? Because I  _ swear _ –”

“No, Steve. Stop, no. I will not be doing that to you,”

“Then what good am I to you?” Steve demands, abruptly standing up from his seat. “There is no  _ reason _ for me to be here!”

“What would you like me to do Steve?! Would you rather had stayed with Pierce?”

“I would rather not be here at all!” Steve nearly yells, causing Bucky to flinch. He knows Steve is upset, and it hurts him to know that he is the one who is the cause of it. But he didn’t think Steve would verbally lash out. “I would rather… I… I don’t want to be here…” Steve mumbles quietly, defeated. The fight leaving his bones with a blink of an eye. Despite only knowing Steve for a limited amount of time, recoiling from a dispute does not seem to be his style. Bucky looks upon Steve’s face, seeing how broken and somber it is in this moment. Steve does not deserve this, this amount pain and suffering. He has done nothing wrong. Bucky knows, deep down in his heart, what he must do.

“As you wish,” Bucky speaks, his voice void of emotion. “In two months time is our next docking. You are free to go then. I do not wish to keep you here longer than you desire.”

“Thank you,” Steve does not turn around to speak, and Bucky understands enough to realize that his presence is no longer wanted. Perhaps it never was to begin with. Grabbing the bowl from his desk, Bucky leaves his cabin at a brisk pace, quietly shutting the door behind him and making his way across the deck.

The air, cold and glum and salty, entraps him entirely, bringing a chill to his flesh. A stinging reminder of his mistake. He should have never obeyed Pierce’s orders, he should have  _ never _ gone against his instincts _. _ He should have simply taken whatever punishment Pierce thought best to bestow upon him, because it would be far less painful than this feeling of guilt that has settled inside of him. It’s torturous, twisting his gut uncomfortably into several knots, coming up his throat until he can hardly breathe. He hates this.

Whatever it takes, Bucky will find a way to fix his horrid mistake; to make things right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, be sure to leave a comment/kudos, because it is the support that keeps me writing! :)


	5. A Colourful Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of all the familiarities, the sun, the wide desolate sky, and empty air, what truly strikes his attention is Bucky’s crew. What he finds to be rather peculiar is the fact that Bucky's crew is simply… _watching_ him. Their eyes never leave his slim figure as he passes by, doing his best to stay near their Captain for protection. They continue on with their tasks, working diligently at their posts, but they always make time to stare at him for a few good moments before turning away, going on again repeatedly, not once ceasing in their stalker-like activities. It makes an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine; he doesn’t like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! Sorry for such a delay between chapters; life has been a struggle as of recent, and finding time to finish up my proofreading is once in a Blue Moon.
> 
> But at last, I have brought you all the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it! :)

“Here you are,” Bucky says quietly a week later, dropping a thick stack of parchment on the desk before Steve. “Thought you could… occupy your time doing something you enjoy.”

Steve looks up at him, confusion filling his eyes. Bucky’s lips are pulled together in a nervous line, his eyebrows furrowed together, as if he is highly unsure of what is about to happen. His hair, in nothing more than a messy bun, falls around his face, framing it in all its glory. His eyes are guarded and alert, something Steve has noticed once before, causing him to wonder about the story of the man standing in front of him.

“This… this is for me?” Steve asks, setting down the book he was reading and picking up the large stack of parchment. The paper is thick yet smooth, utterly delicate to the touch. To be frank, it is most definitely the highest quality of paper that has ever been in Steve’s hands. He’s used to old cloths and wanted posters as his source of a canvas, but what Bucky has just gifted him with is something from God Himself. Crafted by the angels and wrapped in a bow. Literally. Bucky thought far enough to wrap the paper in a light blue string.

Bucky nods, shoving his hands in his pockets in an effort to be modest. As if he doesn’t understand how much this truly means to Steve. “You said you enjoyed drawing. And if you are going to be stuck here for awhile, well, you might as well make the most of it.”

“Thank you, Bucky. This… this really means a lot to me.” Steve smiles up to his… Captor? Acquaintance? Friend? That he is not sure of yet, but is highly intrigued to find out. Yes, he is still upset with Bucky for preventing his escape with the rest of his crew, and yes, it is going to take some time to build up trust with the man standing across from him. But, as Bucky said, Steve is going to be stuck here for quite sometime. Might as well make the most of it. Bucky, for the first time since they’ve met, sends him a small smile; Steve tries his best to ignore the way his heart skips a beat at the sight.

“And this is for you too,” Bucky adds, reaching into his coat and pulling out a roll of leather binding, handing it to Steve. “You could keep the paper in this, if you would like. Don’t want your art getting ruined.”

Their hands brush together as Steve collects the binding, sending a shock of lust and electricity through his fingertips. He pulls away quickly after that, already missing the feeling but knowing that it is for the best. Bucky appears to retract his hand just as quick, bringing it behind his back to connect with his other one. Bucky clears his throat, rocking back and forth on his heels. “If, ah, if you don’t like it, I could–”

“I love it,” Steve says suddenly, blushing at his immediate response. “I, uh– it’s perfect. Thanks.”

The crooked smile and dimpled cheeks Bucky sends his way makes Steve’s heart do a strange flip in his chest. He tries his hardest to ignore it. This man  _ took him _ for chrissakes, falling for him is  _ out of the question. _ “Right,” Bucky takes a few steps back, putting a significant distance between them and walking towards the door. Steve looks down at the roll of leather in his hands, admiring the dark brown tint and the strong smell that emits from it. It reminds him of the leather vests he used to wear as a child, the ones his mother had stitched by hand just for him. God how he misses her so… “Well, when you’re done settin’ up your stuff, you are welcome to join me outside.”

“Outside?” Steve questions, looking up with wide eyes. “I'm… allowed to go outside?”

Bucky furrows his brows. “Steve, I already told you. You are not my prisoner here.”

“Oh…” Steve thought that Bucky had been joking when he had first told him that. But the broken honesty that lines the brunet’s eyes tells Steve that he was foolish to assume otherwise. If Bucky had felt the need to hurt him, torture him,  _ kill _ him, he would have done it already. And he hasn't; instead, he's bringing Steve gifts. Far different from the impending horrors that have rocked his nightmares. “… Then yeah, o-okay. Let me just…” Steve shuffles around the desk, delicately placing the paper in-between the leather binding and untying the blue bow carefully, before wrapping it around the whole charade to keep the pages intact. Grabbing a small stick of charcoal, he stands up from his seat and strolls over to the door.

“One quick thing,” Bucky says slowly, placing his hand on the door. Steve stares at his hand, his eyes traveling up Bucky's arm and tracing over his veins, noticing how they nearly pop out of his skin, then disappear underneath his sleeve. It is clear that Bucky stays in shape, his strong back and thick thighs a clear indication, but now, Steve wonders what Bucky's body would look like with far less clothing.  _ Fuck, no. Stop it.  _ “You can't call me Bucky out there.”

Steve raises a curious brow, prompting Bucky to roll his eyes and explain further. “I go by  _ ‘Barnes’ _ . It’s far more formal and respectful for my crew to call me that. And… no one on my crew knows my first name.”

“But why,” Steve frowns, more confused than ever as realization strikes him.  _ He _ knows Bucky’s name, Bucky told him the day he rescued him from Pierce. Why would Bucky trust Steve, an omega he had barely known at all, with something so monumental? “Why do  _ I _ know your first name?”

“‘Cause you're special,” Bucky states simply, shooting him a small smirk and propping the door open. “After you.” Steve wants to ask, truly. He wants to question the alpha as to  _ why _ he know his name,  _ what _ makes him so special. This doesn’t make any  _ sense. _ But he does not do that at all. Instead, he shoots Bucky one last fleeting glance, before squaring his shoulders with confidence and taking a deep breath, staring out the door.  _ Here I go, I guess. _

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve’s first time being outside in over a week is… odd. The sun is just as he remembers it; hot, scalding, murderous to his delicate skin. He still hates it as much as he did a week ago. The sky is still as blue and beautiful as always, the clouds spaced evenly apart, forming small gatherings here and there. He still loves it just as much as always. Not one bird flies by, he notices, a clear sign that land is nowhere nearby. The salt in the breeze fills his lungs, tainting him with a solid reminder of his trapped state.

But out of all the familiarities, the sun, the wide desolate sky, and empty air, what truly strikes his attention is Bucky’s crew. What he finds to be rather peculiar is the fact that Bucky's crew is simply…  _ watching _ him. Their eyes never leave his slim figure as he passes by, doing his best to stay near their Captain for protection. They continue on with their tasks, working diligently at their posts, but they always make time to stare at him for a few good moments before turning away, going on again repeatedly, not once ceasing in their stalker-like activities. It makes an uncomfortable shiver run down his spine; he doesn’t like this.

“H-hey Bu—Barnes?” Steve stutters nervously, following Bucky close as the latter travels across the ship.

“What is it, Rogers?” Bucky asks smoothly, sparing a small glance at the blond man trailing behind him before looking forward once more. Steve picks up his pace, nearly stepping on Bucky’s heels. He does not appreciate the glances he is receiving, nor the small smirks and winks either. It makes him feel as if he were not a person, but an object; an object on display for others to get off on… it makes him sick. “Why… what’s up with your crew? They’re lookin’ at me funny…” Steve wrinkles his nose in displeasure, and in an effort to rid himself of the pheromones emanating from the nearby alphas.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Bucky says casually, pulling Steve in front of him and leading him up the steps towards the ship’s wheel, climbing up after him. Because of Bucky’s movement, he misses the way the alpha turns his head sharply at his crew, sending each one of his members a cold glare; it snaps them all back into attention almost instantly. “They haven’t been around an omega in weeks, probably months really.” He drags a crate beside the wheel, patting it gently for Steve to sit. Which Steve does, slowly lowering his body down until he is comfortably settled down, looking up at the alpha towering over him. Bucky licks his lips, the action small yet seductive in every way. Steve can’t help but stare. “Lookin’ the way you do, smellin’ like that… it does things to them.”

A small shiver escapes Steve, sending another shot of nervousness down his spine. Partly out of fear. Partly out of security. It is a strange combination, he knows this. The fear comes from the fact that he does not know if he could protect himself from these alphas. Sure, Pierce was easy to take down; yet Pierce was alone and vulnerable when Steve managed to get away. He suspects that, if caught in that type of situation with these alphas, they will not be so easy to escape. But the security… that comes from Bucky’s hard and determined demeanor.

It comes from the low growl he emits when an alpha gets closer to Steve than he particularly enjoys. It comes from his firm gaze, his calculating stare tracking each member of his crew, silently keeping them in check. It is endearing, in a way Steve cannot quite describe. Bucky had made it quite clear to him a few days ago that he will not be showing care or compassion towards Steve outside of his cabin. But if he really did not care about Steve, about his wellbeing and quality of life, then why put up such an effort to protect him? Steve mulls it over as he picks up his charcoal and completed sketches, trying to wrap his mind around the rather confusing Captain beside him. Bucky is unknowingly contradicting himself, yet Steve feels no need to bring it up at the moment. He is far too enraptured by Bucky’s form that is slowly making its appearance on his fresh slip of paper.

His sharp jawline, the cleft in his chin, the slight crease between his brows. The way his hand loosely grips the wheel, his sailing skills shining through clearly. His thumb, Bucky’s left thumb, taps away at the wood, a small habit Steve noticed when the brunet appears to be deep in thought; it moves in a steady beat,  _ One two three… one two three… one two three… _ a relaxing rhythm. Steve shakes his foot to the silent melody, using the movement to guide his drawing.  _ One two three… _ Bucky’s eyes are completed, guarded and cautious, aware of every single action taking place on his vessel.  _ One two three… _ His arms and shoulders are finished, strong and sturdy, but weary from the weight of the world resting upon them. Steve wishes he knew of a way to erase the pain from the real world.  _ One two three… _

“Whatcha drawin’ there, Rogers?” Bucky asks, locking the wheel in place and taking a short break. Steve’s head snaps up, his eyes squinting tightly from the sun and neck aching from his previous position. How long has he been observing and sketching Bucky? Is it causing any discomfort?

“Oh, um… nothing worth sharing…” Steve replies shyly, a blush overtaking his cheeks despite his will to fight it off. He tries to shuffle around the paper and hide his artwork from the man now hovering above him, afraid of what Bucky would say or do if he saw that Steve was drawing  _ him _ , but Bucky’s hand gently lays over his own, stopping him from doing so. Steve looks down, noticing how perfectly Bucky’s hand covers his, how they both simply seem to fit. He swallows hard, waiting in the tense silence for Bucky to yell at him, get angry with him. But instead, Bucky leans down close, his breath hitting Steve’s ear, as he whispers, “This looks real nice, Steve.”

Steve’s heart absolutely does not do a summersault in his chest. It does not beat faster. It does not cry out for more love.  _ It doesn’t… _ “Thanks Buck,” Steve whispers back, smiling to himself.

“Barnes,” A voice says curtly, cutting through the moment like a knife. Steve’s entire body tenses up at the sound, so much so that he nearly lets the charcoal and paper slip from his grasp. He recognizes this voice too, similar to how he had recognized Pierce’s voice. Bucky moves to stand in front of Steve, blocking him from the view of the other alpha. “Rumlow,” Bucky says in reply, crossing his arms authoritively.

Steve peaks his head around, the curiosity getting the best of him and his fear. Standing on the other side of Bucky is a tall, broad-shouldered alpha. Taller than Bucky, yet not as muscular. And not as attractive, but that is only Steve’s opinion. The faint scars on his face are intimidating, a clear sign that he is not someone who should be messed with. His shirt is nowhere to be found, instead he has bandages wrapped carefully around his chest and torso, most definitely because of the injuries Steve had caused him the night he was captured. They do not seem to be bothering him however, his mood not one bit altered by his wounds.

“Your omega, I’d like to speak to him,” Rumlow, apparently, requests, and Steve’s blood runs cold. Bucky does not move for a few good moments, his shoulders wide and tight and demeanour unreadable from Steve’s position.  _ He is debating, _ Steve thinks,  _ on whether or not to let me live _ . Steve truly hopes he can be allowed to live, he would desperately love to see his friends again before his time on earth has come to an end. Bucky steps to the side, his eyes cold as he watches Brock approach Steve. He wants to plead out to Bucky, ask for help and for rescue from this fear, but he remembers Bucky’s words clearly. Steve makes eye contact with Rumlow, holding the charcoal tightly in his hand as the latter closes the distance.

“This belongs to you,” Rumlow pulls out a thick cloth from his belt, waiting for Steve to set down the charcoal, and for silent approval from Bucky, before handing it to him. Steve collects it in weary hands, placing it in his lap. Carefully unwrapping it, unfolding each layer of cloth until he gets to the centre. It’s… it’s his dagger. The very one he had hurled into Rumlow’s chest out of fear. Steve gulps nervously, not quite knowing what to say.

“I… I… uh, thank you…” Is what he comes up with. “And sorry about the…”

Rumlow waves his hand dismissively, “Doesn’t even hurt.”

Rumlow then spends the next few minutes reporting to his Captain, sending Steve glances that the latter ignores easily. Once he is gone, Bucky returns to the wheel, leaning up against it and this time, occupies his time staring at Steve, which he does not even notice. Steve is far more mesmerized by the art in his lap. On the page before him, Steve pulls out a new sheet of paper and draws out steady outlines of the ship, its tall sails and vast deck, the overarching crowsnest in all its glory, to the smallest barrel to the largest cannon. It’s beautiful, the ship. Clean cut and elegant, but also vicious and deadly in every aspect of the word. The perfect ship to belong to any murderous Captain.

Steve wrinkles his nose again, this time in annoyance. There is something wrong with his sketch. Something does not seem to… fit into place. Looking up, Steve does a quick overview of the ship once more, trying to determine what he sketched that does not work out with the rest of the design. It doesn’t take him long to realize that it is not  _ something _ , but  _ someone _ .

Bucky. Bucky is that someone. Bucky is not a murderous Captain, hellbent on getting his way. He is not like Pierce, not at all. Over the last week, he has shown Steve nothing but kindness. He has given him all the food he desired, a comfortable place to rest his head for the evening, the crisp paper sitting in his lap… and possibly maybe even a new friend, Steve is still trying to figure out where they stand. Bucky, with his kind eyes and beautiful smile, lush hair that Steve oh so desperately wants to touch, a jawline that could cut glass, gentle hands that are keeping Steve safe… But despite all that, Bucky is here, when, in all truth, he should be defending the world, not taking from it; responding to orders from the Royal Navy, not from Hydra. Bucky’s soul is soft and delicate… what on earth is he doing here? Who hurt him so much that made him turn to a life such as this?

___________________________________________________________

 

“Bucky…”

“Steve I swear to—”

“Bucky I’m  _ bored _ .”

Bucky groans dramatically, dipping the tip of his writing quill into the small jar of ink, guiding it to the parchment before him. Steve is sitting across from him at the other side of the desk— no, he’s draping his entire figure over the chair like a dead body, throwing his arms all around in an effort to get Bucky’s attention. And Bucky had given it to him, countless times. But it is already three hours into Steve’s complaint fest and he has not let up; not even once to grant Bucky some sanity. “Go draw, Steve,”

“I already  _ did _ . I drew your big fat head, dumbass,” Steve remarks sarcastically, and Bucky, despite his annoyance, pulls a small smile. Steve is a talented artist, no doubt about it. He has the ability to create life itself from the very pages Bucky had given him a few days ago. His images seem to pop right off the paper, the details so expressive and realistic that it was difficult to choose between the drawing and the real deal. And the way he drew  _ Bucky _ … Bucky secretly enjoyed it. Steve made him look stunning, like someone worth loving and caring for; something he knows he will never be… But that does not matter now, Steve’s demand for attention is the matter. “Give me something to do. Please. I’m dying over here.”

Bucky sighs heavily, packing away his notes and writing utensils carefully before directing his full attention to the man-child he rescued. “Stop acting like a child, Rogers,” Steve turns his head, his blue eyes narrowing down into a glare, “Then give me something to do. Let me put something to use. I’m  _ bored _ .”

_ I know something we— you, you could put to use, _ Bucky thinks quietly to himself, sparing a split-second glance to his mattress in the far corner, then berating himself at the mere thought of it. He had promised himself, back before he had gotten to know Steve and his silly quirks and adorable habits, that he would not develop feelings, attraction, or interest, in little Steve Rogers. Romance leads to relationships; relationships are a weakness on the seas; if anything were to happen,  _ anything at all, _ it would be Steve’s head served to Pierce on a gold platter. And just the thought of knowing that he would be the reason Steve would never laugh again, would never smile once more… it is enough to dissuade him from his pressing desires.

Bucky would rather never be able to touch Steve, if it meant that he could see that joyous sparkle in those pretty eyes; just like that sparkle he saw when he gifted Steve with the sketch paper. Bucky would rather never be able to kiss those sinful lips, if it meant he would still receive small doodles from Steve everyday, ones he kept safe and close and hidden from the evil of the world; if it meant he could laugh quietly at Steve’s bedhead from across the cabin each morning, the latter outright giggling at Bucky’s rat’s nest atop his shoulders; if it meant that he could admire Steve from afar at every chance he got… If it meant Steve would stay safe and unharmed for the rest of his life, Bucky would do whatever the Lord demanded of him. So yes, Steve’s safety is far more important than his desire, it always has and always will be. For as long as Steve is under Bucky’s care— no, not care, he does not  _ care _ — his protection, risking his life is something he is willing to do. It does not give Steve the right to be a little shit however.

“Go be bored somewhere else, Steve,”

“But I haven’t talked to ya all day, Buck. I thought we were friends,” Steve pouts, crossing his arms like the child he truly is on the inside. Yet Bucky’s annoyance flies out the window in moments, his interest piqued at Steve’s statement…  _ Friends… _

“Friends, eh?” Bucky questions curiously, mimicking Steve and crossing his own arms. Despite the fact that Bucky gives Steve a hard time once in awhile since he’s been here, considering him a friend would be… rather nice, if Bucky says so himself. He hasn’t had someone in his life that he could call a friend in such a long time, he has nearly forgotten such roles exist in daily life. What do friends even do together? Are there certain rules that he must structure himself on?

“Well, yeah,” Steve shrugs, a small blush covering his cheeks but his pride hides it behind artistic fingers. “All things considered. And with everything that has happened so far, the least I could do is call you my friend.”

Bucky snorts, “The least you could do is stop being a lil’ shit, Steve.” At that, Steve laughs his beautiful laugh, the very noise pulling a bright smile to Bucky’s lips. Something that he had never been able to do before Steve came along; smiling never seemed to do Bucky any good, always putting a damper to his already somber mood, if such a thing was considerably possible. “But… I’ll take ya up on that, Rogers.”

Steve’s face brightens, and Bucky did not think that  _ that _ was possible either; for Steve to be an even brighter ball of sunshine. “I’d like that a lot, Bucky…” The room then goes quiet, and they are left staring at each other from across the desk, Bucky leaning over the dark wood of his workspace, and Steve, still sprawled out on the chair similar to that of a toddler. He could consider this a somewhat intimate moment between them both, neither of them wanting to break the atmosphere first. Both of them trying to determine what might happen next, what could possibly be in store for them. Bucky is concerned that he would not be capable of living up to his full potential of a good, decent friendship; people like him are not usually gifted with miracles like this.

It is Steve who obliterates the silence however. And for a good reason at that; a yawn leaps from his throat, his nose scrunching up as his declares his state of drowsiness to his newfound friend. “I think I’m gonna check in for the night, Buck.”

“Yeah… oh yeah, yeah okay,” Bucky stutters over his words, abruptly standing up from his chair with a laugh. “I, uh… good night Steve.”

Steve smiles his signature small smile, before he yawns once more, bidding Bucky a good night and walking over to his makeshift bed in the corner of the cabin. Despite Bucky’s violent protests for Steve to use his bed, for it is far more comfortable than what he is currently using, Steve had refused the offer each time, insisting that he would be fine. Bucky wonders how hard he would get punched in the face if he were to move Steve to the more comfortable bed later on. But at this point, he can worry about that in the morning; tonight, he can finally go to bed with a smile upon his lips and a good reason to wake up tomorrow. He owes that to Steve, and so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you did, be sure to leave a comment/kudos, the support keeps me going! ❤︎


	6. Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am about ready to strangle you,”
> 
> “With those tiny hands of yours? Doubt it.”
> 
> Steve growls, narrowing his eyes. “I can do a _lot_ with these hands, so fuck off.”
> 
> Bucky chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he takes a languid sip of his drink, smirking at the angry omega across from him. Steve’s face is scrunched up in passive-aggressive fury, his foot tapping against the floor as he thinks long and hard.
> 
> “You giving up yet?”
> 
> “No, I’m not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! I apologize for my absence from Ao3 and this story, I've been quite busy in the last few weeks. I was originally supposed to post this chapter two days ago, but I left my laptop at school... thank god I'm friends with the administrators and I got into the school XD
> 
> I hope this chapter makes up for me being gone, and I hope you all enjoy it as well! ❤︎

“I am about ready to strangle you,”

“With those tiny hands of yours? Doubt it.”

Steve growls, narrowing his eyes. “I can do  _ a lot _ with these hands, so fuck off.”

Bucky chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he takes a languid sip of his drink, smirking at the angry omega across from him. Steve’s face is scrunched up in passive-aggressive fury, his foot tapping against the floor as he thinks long and hard.

“You giving up yet?”

“No, I’m not,” Steve speaks up after a few moments, sitting up in his seat so that his back is perfectly straight and his head is held high. The blond lifts his hand steadily, and Bucky watches with his head propped in his hand, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, as Steve lifts his piece and places it in a different position. Confident with his move, Steve leans back with a smile. “See? I know what I’m doing.”

Bucky looks upon his friend, a chuckle leaving his lips as he too sits up and prepares for war. “You sure about that, Stevie?” It is hard not to laugh outright when Steve’s face falls, his mouth gaping and eyes shining with betrayal, when Bucky picks up his own piece and begins to shift it across the paper.

“No no no,” Steve whispers to himself, knowing full well that he’s already lost. “Bucky don’t do it, don’t do it Buck–”

Bucky throws him a wink and sets down his piece, “Checkmate.”

“Dammit!” Steve shouts, abruptly getting up from the table and stomping around the cabin. Bucky finally lets out his laugh, smacking his glass down on his desk as he tries to remember how to breathe properly. Poor Steve, he never knew that teaching Bucky such a simple game would bring him eventual frustration. Granted, Bucky had never disclosed to him that he actually  _ did _ know how the game of Chess works; he was going to, but when he saw the bright smile that had taken over Steve’s face as the latter shouted, “Yes! Finally something I can teach you!”, his heart did a peculiar flutter and shut him right up.

He never once told Steve since the blond began ‘teaching’ him what each piece meant, the pieces that Steve had sketched out on paper, then the both of them later carved by hand. Carving the pieces was far more difficult than Bucky had originally thought; Steve teased him relentlessly because of it. He never brought up how often he played this simple game as a teen, winning wagers left and right. He never mentioned this because he surprisingly had… a decent time allowing Steve to do as he pleased.

These past two months on the seas with Steve have quite possibly been the most enjoyable two months of his entire existence. Because of it, he has found the ability to smile once again, to the point that the corners of his mouth ached by nightfall. To laugh genuinely with his friend, until breathing became far more difficult than usual. He enjoyed the conversations they held, some fully vocal and boisterous, others completely silent, with simple glances and smiles to do it justice.

“You fucking cheater!”

Bucky curls in on himself, laughing even harder until tears nearly begin to leak from his eyes. He can hardly remember such a time where he was capable of laughing this hard. “Played ya fair and square, stop whin–”

“No, no no no.” Steve mutters, shaking his head violently as he returns to the desk and takes a seat, propping his head in his hands. “You cheated.  _ Somehow _ you cheated. I don’t know  _ how _ just yet, but I  _ will _ figure it out.”

“No you won’t, ‘cause I didn’t cheat.”

Steve growls, narrowing his eyes. “Yeah,  _ whatever _ Buck. You can say all you want, but I know for a fact that–” A subtle knock at the door pulls at their attention, causing Bucky to gently shush Steve. He hates doing it, every time they converse is a risk for the both of them. As of yet, not one member of his crew has caught on to the fact of their friendship, and he hopes so dearly that he can keep it that way for as long as he can.

Granted, this is Steve’s final night on the ship, for tonight they are docking in London once again. But even after Steve’s departure, if anyone were to catch wind of their relationship, Steve would most definitely be hunted down for ‘softening up a pirate of Hydra’. So they keep themselves quiet, to the best of their ability; unsocial outside the cabin, lively inside of it. Steve understood when Bucky had set the ground rules within the first two weeks of Steve’s voyage, a curt nod and gentle smile given to the brunet in agreement. An odd arrangement, he knows this, but for them, it is absolutely perfect.

Bucky clears his throat, giving Steve a subtle glance then angling his head towards the door. Steve understands immediately, folding up the makeshift chess board and sliding the pieces towards Bucky, who quickly opens a drawer in his desk, the very one filled with all of Steve’s hidden drawings that the latter has no clue he still acquires, and pushes all the pieces into the drawer. Steve scrambles off his chair, swiftly moving over to the window and taking a seat on the ledge, opening up his sketchbook and beginning to draw. He briefly looks up, giving Bucky an affirmative nod.

“Enter,” Bucky calls out, pretending to busy himself with his notes. The door opens casually, Brock stepping through and standing at attention. Bucky can instantly smell Brock’s arousal as the latter looks upon Steve with hungry eyes, and he lets out a low, possessive growl because of it; clearly establishing his dominance. Brock comes back to himself instantly, seeming to be surprised by his own actions and shaking his head.

Yes, Bucky understands that Steve is a rather attractive and alluring omega. He understands that better than anyone on this damned ship, he knows that for a  _ fact _ . Every single thing Steve does, whether the action may be large or small, it simply makes Bucky want to wrap him up and keep him safe from any and all evil in this terrible world. He wants to kiss those pretty lips more than anything, hold Steve’s body in his hands and show him the utmost of pleasure that he possibly can. Put a lovely little mark on Steve’s neck, the omega doing the same to him, so that they could be bonded as one for the rest of their lives; consensual, of course. Bucky, by all means, is not a ruthless, uncaring  _ animal _ .

But he would never subject Steve to a life with him. Steve deserves better than an alpha who did nothing to save him on the night of his capture. An alpha who is not as daft to lose an appendage in an accident fueled by nothing but alcohol and pride. Someone who could give him all that he desired in this life, and not run the risk of being tracked down and tortured. Steve, oh sweet, kind-hearted, loving little Steve, does not deserve to have a future of constantly having to look over his shoulder in fear. 

Steve deserves so much more than a worthless pirate captain…

“I–my apologies, sir. I didn’t mean–”

“What is it that you need, Rumlow?” Bucky questions, feigning annoyance. Brock swallows, clasping his hands tightly behind his back with clearing of his throat, “We’re gettin’ ready to dock soon, Cap’n. You asked me to let you know…”

It is Bucky’s turn to be shocked, yet he keeps his surprised nature hidden. He knew Steve would be leaving him tonight, a fact that not one other member of the crew knows but himself; they would not dare let Steve escape if they knew. But the thing is… Bucky himself is not ready for Steve to leave. He finally has someone whom he feels comfortable around, someone whom he can laugh with and trust, someone he has learned to love…

And Steve is going away tonight, and Bucky will never see him again. It is his own fault, that he knows, for subjecting himself to this. He did not plan on becoming friends with the little omega, becoming so close in the span of two months that even now it still astounds Bucky. He did not plan on waking up each morning to see Steve’s smiling face, that lovely crooked grin sending his heart racing a mile a minute. The sketches, the ones he convinced Steve he never kept, still tucked away in the drawer now containing the chess pieces. The awed look on Steve’s face each night as he looked out the cabin window to see the stars, the moonlight reflecting off the sea and across Steve’s cheeks, the twinkling lights doing no justice to the fire in Steve’s eyes. His laugh and his smile and his personality and each and every single little thing he does makes Bucky believe that Steve is simply an angel in disguise.

But all angels must return to heaven eventually.

“Thank you Rumlow. Dismissed.”

The alpha nods his head and leaves the cabin without another word, closing the door tightly behind him. Bucky finally lets out a shaky breath, slowly scooting back his seat until he can stand up properly. He turns, eyes closed and watery, as he prepares to say farewell to his dear friend. “Steve… I…”

But no words manage to leave him, for he is immediately jumped on by Steve. His eyes shoot open, looking down at the shaking man holding him tightly. He can hear small hitches of Steve’s breath against his chest, his nimble fingers gripping Bucky’s coat tightly.

“I’m so sorry Bucky,” Steve mumbles over a small sob, his face buried in Bucky’s chest. “I was so terrible to you in the beginning and I never apologized to you for that, and  _ fuck Bucky I’m so sorry.” _

“Steve, what? No, Steve stop,” Bucky moves his arms out of Steve’s grasp, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. The poor thing has tears in his beautiful eyes, his eyelids puffy and cheeks flushed from sorrow. His thumbs brush away Steve’s stray tears as he whispers calmly, “Steve, there is absolutely nothing to apologize for. Hey, look at me,” Steve carefully opens his eyes, and Bucky has to remind himself to not lean down for a kiss. “You had every right to hate me. And you don’t anymore, right?”

Steve nods sadly, opening his mouth to speak but not one sound comes out his throat. Bucky pulls a small smile, “See? We’re friends Stevie, and even if you still hated me… well I’d understand why. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Steve sniffles, stepping back and wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Bucky’s heart yearns to kiss away those tears, to hold Steve for even longer until not one speck of sorrow lingers in his bones. “We… are we still celebratin’ later?”

“Yes Steve, of course we are. I promised you that much.”

___________________________________________________________

 

The celebration is not, in fact, for Steve’s secret escape. It is for the five vessels that Bucky’s crew had managed to scourge and sink within the past two months of Steve’s being here. Steve himself suggested it, but at this moment, as he does his best to keep himself seated in the crowded location, he beings to think that going to a tavern might not have been the best idea.

Yet he has to take into account that this will be the easiest way for him to slip away practically unnoticed. And it would be the last time that Steve will see Bucky, possibly forever…

He has to admit it to himself: he knows that he is falling for the alpha. His kind heart, his dorky smile, his gorgeous eyes and loving persona… God, Steve doesn’t even know what’s  _ wrong _ with him. His heart should  _ not _ flip each time Bucky sends him a wink or casual smile. He should  _ not _ be feeling butterflies in his stomach each time his eyes land on Bucky’s form, whether it be from across the ship or right next to each other. He tried his best, truly he really did, to not fall for the alpha. The man who captured him, the man who stole him away from his friends and crew.  _ The man who saved his life from Pierce _ .

Steve never intended to develop feelings for a man who most definitely never fall for an omega with a sharp tongue. Majority of the alphas Steve has come across in his life here have looked down upon him for speaking out and defending himself. But some simply do not understand that omegas are  _ people _ too, not some senseless hole to fuck when an alpha feels inclined. But in the time Steve has come to know him, not once has Bucky rudely commented on his spitfire and his wit, rather instead praising him for it. Steve shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present; there is no such use in false hope anymore, this is their last evening together after all.

“Order up, Rogers!” Rumlow roars over the bustle of the tavern, sliding the blond a glass filled with rum to the brim. Music and laughter fill the air, nearly every member of Bucky’s crew occupying the space along with several townsmen and women. Especially omegas, Steve notices as he smells the air. It honestly does not surprise him, these alphas have been dry for months if he remembers Bucky’s words correctly. Steve gathers the drink in his hands and takes a gentle sip, hiding his displeasure of the alcohol as best as he can.

As soon as Rumlow leaves the table, Bucky lets out a husky chuckle. “What?” Steve questions, setting the glass back down on the table and angling his head to look at his friend. His handsome, beautiful friend. Those defined cheekbones that could cut him just by looking, those pouty lips that are simply demanding to be kissed, those eyes that seem to hold the entire sky inside of them. All of it is wrapped up into one perfect human being, one Steve wishes so badly he could call his own. Bucky rolls his eyes, carefully leaning back in his chair, “You don’t like rum ‘ery much, do ya?”

Steve wrinkles his nose, “Not particularly, no. Alcohol has never really been something I found pleasure in.”

Bucky does not acknowledge the fact Steve has spoken, but he continues to stare at him with a look that Steve is not exactly sure how to describe. His eyes are dark, pupils blown so wide that Steve can see them all the way from his seat. While he is not sitting very far away, the fact that he can see them so clearly makes his head spin. The brunet pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, and Steve  _ swears _ he hears a low growl emanate from Bucky’s throat. Bucky begins to slowly take on a properly seated position, leaning closer to Steve with each passing second. “Steve, I–”

Bucky never manages to finish his statement, for an unknown omega has crawled her way into Bucky’s lap, effectively blocking Steve’s view of his friend. Steve shuffles back, clearly not expecting the stranger to make a sudden appearance in their conversation.  _ How dare she _ , Steve curses in his mind, standing up and adjusting his jacket.  _ This was the last night I had with him, and she just took that away with a simple action…  _

He is being far too dramatic than he would usually like, yet this simply is not fair; with a small shuffle of his feet, he is leaving behind the man he unknowingly gave his heart to. Steve does not notice the way Bucky cranes his head around the other omega, calling out his name in distress and trying to get him to come back. But no, Steve would prefer to not stick around to see the both of them locking lips when he wishes with all his heart that it was him in Bucky’s lap at this moment.  _ No, Bucky made his apparent choice _ , Steve realizes as he makes his way towards the main bar of the tavern, somehow managing to obtain an empty seat in the overly crowded spot. Steve hides rather well in the mass of people, which seems to do some justice to his appearing sadness.

“Well hello there, sweet thing,” A low voice hums beside him, and Steve turns his head to look upon an alpha he has never met once before. Despite the fact that he is sitting, Steve can tell that the alpha is most definitely far taller than him. His muscles bulge from his sleeves, the seams screaming for release. His eyes, as dark green as seaweed, shine with hunger and lust in the low lantern light. Steve has to admit it to himself, the alpha is attractive, but not nearly as attractive as Bucky.

“Hello,” Steve mumbles, angling his body towards the other man, opening himself up to the stranger. The man in turn bites his lip carefully, his eyes taking in every inch of Steve’s tiny, lithe body. A breath finds itself caught in Steve’s throat when the alpha’s hand gently lays across his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“What’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doing here all alone?” The man murmurs, slowly scooting closer towards Steve. Steve spares a glance in the direction from which he came, hoping to spot his friend in the mass of bodies, only to feel his heart sink when Bucky is absolutely nowhere to be found. “Oh, I see,” The alpha says disheartened, his hand slipping from Steve’s knee. “You ain’t alone here tonight.”

Without thinking, Steve reaches out and takes hold of the man’s hand, letting out a nervous chuckle as he places it back on his leg. “No, no I’m here alone. You want to do something about that?”  _ What the hell am I doing? _ Steve screams to himself, hiding his uncertainty with a smile. To be frank, he knows exactly what he is doing, and he knows with all his heart that his decision is not the wisest of them all. But if Bucky will not care about him the way Steve knows deep down he does, well, then he will find that affection somewhere else.

The alpha lets out a small huff of laughter, downing the rest of his drink in one sip and arising from his seat, holding out his hand for Steve to take. “I would absolutely  _ love _ to do something about that.” Steve follows the alpha up the stairs of the tavern, his hand being held far too tight than he would like, but he is not complaining. He cannot and he will not complain; he needs this more than he can even comprehend.  _ Let me forget him, please, _ Steve pleads silently when he makes it to the top, unaware of a new set of eyes watching his form until he disappears from view of the tavern below. The alpha leads him down the low-lit hallway, passing a series of large, wooden doors, before making his selection and coming to a halt.  _ 128 _ , the door reads. Steve silently hopes that it’s the last numbers he’ll be seeing for awhile. The alpha lifts his other hand and calmly turns the knob, carefully pushing it open and allowing Steve to look inside.

“Will this,” The alpha licks his lips, eyeing Steve with aggressive hunger as the latter takes a peek inside. Smaller than he would have originally hoped for, but now is no time to be picky. He just wants to  _ forget _ . “Be alright for the evening?”

Steve’s throat clenches up, unsure of where to go from here. It has been so long, oh so long, since Steve has the hands of another on his body. Touching him just right, knowing exactly where on his body made him squirm. Made him cry out. Made him feel so overwhelmed by pleasure and ecstasy that he could hardly breathe. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to act or what to do.  _ Easy, Steve. You’ll be fine _ , he tells himself over a shuddering breath. He can do this, he can make himself forget about everything. It’ll be okay…

Steve turns his head to look at the alpha beside him, noting the dark, lust-filled expression on the other man’s face. Steve swallows hard, trying to gain some of his own confidence. “This… this is perfect,” Steve whispers quietly, unsure whether he is reassuring himself or the alpha. Grabbing a fistful of the alpha’s shirt, Steve tugs him into the room, allowing the other man to shut the door with a simple kick of his foot. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, their bodies close; chest to chest, the alpha’s hands on Steve’s hips and Steve’s hands still bundled tight in his shirt. Steve’s nervous scent fills the air occupying the room, but the alpha does not seem to be affected.

_ I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, Buck… _

With a deep breath, Steve angles his head and surges upwards, crashing their lips together. A low, fearful growl emanates from the alpha, sending a wave of shock down Steve’s spine. Large, demanding hands are on his hips in seconds, pushing Steve backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed, sending the both of them tumbling atop the mattress. Steve’s hands make their way into the alpha’s hair, noting that it is relatively short compared to Bucky’s luscious brown hair.  _ No, I need to forget, _ Steve chastises himself, tugging on the alpha’s hair and pulling a gentle hum from the other man.  _ Perfect _ .

The alpha’s right hand slowly drags along the curvature his hip, moving closer, oh ever so close, to Steve’s cock, his thumb lightly brushing over the bump in Steve’s trousers. Rolling his hips with a smooth motion, the man’s hand is now completely taking hold of Steve’s clothed cock, causing Steve to fake a moan. Not that this is an uneventful session, but at the moment Steve is not feeling the utmost pleasure he knows Bucky could be showing him. And he knows the he needs to get Bucky, quite possibly the most perfect alpha he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, out of his head if he wishes to move on in his life. Bucky cannot and will not show him a speck of physical affection or want, for Steve knows that Bucky deserves a far better omega to lay his hands and his lips upon.

“You like that, sweetheart?” The alpha questions with a huff, giving Steve’s cock a small squeeze. Steve nods his head furiously, bringing the man’s lips closer and licking his way inside his mouth. In turn, the alpha lets out another small groan of lust, this time directing both his hands to Steve’s cock. “I am going to  _ ruin _ you tonight, sweet thing. I can promise you that.”

_ Good, _ Steve thinks, tilting his hips to allow the man access to his trouser clasp.  _ Please just make me forget _ .

However, no matter how hard Steve may try, forgetting the pirate Captain may not be as easy as he originally thought. The door to the quaint room swings open violently, smacking the wall with a hard  _ ‘crash’ _ . Both Steve and the alpha gasp in surprise at the disruption, turning their attention away from each other and towards the direction of the ungodly sound. Bucky stomps over, a man on a mission, and rips the alpha away from Steve, “Don’t you even  _ think _ about touchin’ him again, you fucker.”

“Bucky, what the hell are you doing?!” Steve pleas, quickly but carefully sitting up on the mattress to gain some ground. Bucky’s feral, blazed look, is instantly morphed into one of confusion, his head tilting towards Steve like he is the insane one. The other alpha shrugs Bucky’s hands from his body, “Oh fuck this,” The man mumbles, leaving the room as fast as humanly possible. Steve tries to call out for him to wait, only to realize that he never learned the alpha’s name, so the words only get caught in his throat.

“Steve, I–” Bucky starts, looking completely filled with shame as Steve turns to stare at him angrily. “I didn’t know, I thought he was hurtin’ you, I would never–”

“You see, Buck?  _ That’s _ your goddamned problem. You’ll never…”  _ Love me. Want me. Need me. _ Steve shakes his head, roughly getting up from the mattress and fixing his clothing with a smooth swipe. Saying nothing more, Steve abruptly leaves the room with Bucky quick on his heels.

“No, Steve wait–”

Hurrying down the stairs he originally came from, Steve makes his way from through the crowd with detailed accuracy, his small body easily fitting through the gaps in the mass of people. He does not even look back to see if Bucky is still following him, he just wants to get out of here as quickly as possible. Once outside, Steve takes a deep, shuddering breath, filling his lungs to the brim with the cold night air. The entrance door to the tavern opens up after a few minutes, Bucky’s hard footsteps following the sound.

“Steve,  _ Stevie _ , fuck, I’m so damn–”

“Sorry?” Steve finishes for him, shoving his hands in his pockets and spinning around to face his friend. Bucky’s face clearly displays remorse and regret, lips parted to say more, yet no words manage to come out. “Yeah Buck, you really should be.”

“I thought he was hurtin’ you, Rogers! What was I supposed to do?” Bucky demands, running a shaky hand through his hair and pulling at the strands. Steve lets out a fake huff of laughter, closing his eyes and pinching his nose carefully. “ _ You _ were supposed to mind your own goddamned business. But it seems like not even that fuckin’ omega was enough to keep you distracted, you should be ashamed.”

“The  _ omega? _ I didn’t even want–– it that what this is about? Are you fuckin’  _ jealous _ ?”

Steve’s composure, the one he thought he could hold up for a longer period of time, falls completely, displaying his ashen face. His eyes begin to fill with water, his hands anxiously opening and closing as he tries to contain himself; tries to keep himself from breaking down.  _ Of course _ he is jealous, how could he not be? The most perfect omega was able to slide into Bucky’s lap without even a word, Steve could not even do that if he tried his hardest. He is jealous of someone he knows will never be his, and that someone just so happens to be Bucky. Noticing the look on Steve’s face, Bucky’s eyes suddenly widen with regret at his words, and he takes a step closer to pull Steve into his arms. “No, Steve I– I didn’t mean that, you gotta know that I only want–”

Steve pushes the other man away, eyes narrowed as a tear slips down his cheek. “Fuck you, Barnes.”

With a turn of his feet, Steve walks away from his friend and back to the harbour. He does not think about where his feet are deciding to carry him, all he knows is that they are taking him away from Bucky. Or so he thinks. Hearing a rough pound of feet against the cobblestone path, Bucky is almost instantly at his side, breathing heavily. “Go away, Bucky.”

“N-no, not gonna happen,” Bucky pants harshly, keeping in step with him. “I ain’t letting you walk outta here bein’ mad at me, Stevie. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just leave me the hell alone,” Steve growls, walking faster and turning on the natural dip of the path, down the wooden planks of the harbour and past other ships, seeing Bucky’s in the far distance. Wait, why is he going in this direction? He is supposed to be  _ leaving _ Bucky tonight, according to their agreement. But as he turns around to hopefully vacate the area, Bucky is right there, standing a few feet away with his hands on his hips, effectively blocking his path. “Not until you tell me.”

“What do you care of it, Barnes?” Steve shouts, throwing his hands up in the air in distress. Steve is being pushed up against a figurative corner, unable to leave without confessing his suppressed feelings. And he knows that if he utters a single word of them, Bucky will only look upon him with disgust, unable to love such a worthless omega like Steve.

“I, what? I actually don’t  _ care _ , Steve–”

“Oh really?” Steve growls, folding in his arms defensively. “You are such an  _ asshole!” _

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me!” Steve begins to pace side to side, expressively using his hands to elevate the conversation. “You never give a shit about me, or about anyone for that fact!”

“I can be yer friend without carin’ for ya–” Bucky interjects, but Steve effectively cuts him off.

“Actually, Buck, you can’t. True friends,  _ real _ friends, care about each other. If someone is your friend, then you  _ care _ about that person! That’s how friendship works! But what would you know, huh?”

“Steve, I… Steve, keep yer voice down,” Bucky takes a step closer, looking over his shoulder to see if they’ve been spotted by anyone of Bucky’s crew, then guides Steve behind large stack of boxes. Here, they are completely hidden away from the world, but Steve’s shouts of distress make it obvious of their whereabouts. “Someone’s gonna hear us–”

“Let ‘em fuckin’ hear us!” Steve yells defiantly, pushing Bucky’s hands off his shoulders. Bucky has no right, absolutely  _ no right _ , to tell him what to do. How to act, how to be. Before, Steve was sure that some part, maybe even a small inkling of Bucky, had cared for him and his wellbeing. But now, in this moment, when he is filled with anger, sadness, and regret, he isn’t so sure. “It’s clear that you don’t care, Barnes.” Steve mumbles quietly, dejected and somber.

At the tone of his words, Bucky’s eyes suddenly harden, his demeanor changing entirely. “Steve…”

“Fuck off, Buck.” Steve sniffs, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. “Just… just fuck–”

“Steve…” Bucky comes closer, effectively trapping Steve in-between the cobblestone wall behind him, and his gorgeous, firm body. “Steve, look at me. Please Stevie–”

“ _ What _ ,” Steve looks up at Bucky, suddenly aware of how close they are. Suddenly aware of how alluring Bucky’s scent is in this moment, exactly how it has always been since the day they met. Rustic fire, sweet apples, and something else that he just cannot seem to put his finger on. But he loves it, every intoxicating part of it he loves and wants it completely surrounding him at all times. He is not even capable of forming words now; he should be sore with Bucky, angry with the fact that the brunet ruined his night; however, when he truly thinks about it, did Bucky  _ really _ ruin it? “Bucky, I…”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes, inching closer with every second that passes by, until within moments they are pressed up against each other, bodies close and mouths even closer. Steve's finger tangle in Bucky’s shirt, and he is rewarded by the low, seductive growl Bucky lets out in response. His body, perfectly attuned with his mind, can feel the heat of Bucky’s hands near his waist, seemingly about to touch him but holding back.

“Consent…?” Bucky whispers his question, their eyes locked on one another, exposing their very souls with such depth for each other to see that Steve is utterly overwhelmed with emotion. And the fact that Bucky has the courtesy, the decency, the heart, to ask Steve for  _ consent _ , explicitly knowing how much that kind of thing means to Steve… Grasping tighter onto Bucky’s shirt, Steve whispers his response, “ _ Yes,” _ , then closes the unnecessary distance between their lips.

_ This is what heaven feels like, _ Steve thinks, moving his body closer to the brunet. Bucky’s lips are just as plush and soft as he’d dreamed, so warm and inviting that after only a few seconds he is left completely breathless. Bucky’s hands, his large, firm hands, finally grasp onto Steve’s narrow hips, pulling both their hips together with a gentle snap.

Before he knows it, they are up against the wall, Bucky gently yet affirmatively kneading his ass with every pass of their lips. At Steve’s first gasp, Bucky licks his way into the blond’s mouth, letting out a moan of his own and kissing Steve even harder. His right hand runs down Steve’s thigh, hiking it up to effectively hold Steve even closer as he kisses down the right side of Steve’s neck, from beneath his ear to the hem of his shirt.

“Do you like that, Stevie?” Bucky asks with a low growl, the warm air hitting Steve’s ear and sending a pleasurable tingle down his spine. Steve nods rapidly, his eyes closed and hips rolling. Yes, he was upset only moments ago, but it was nothing to be truly upset over. With Bucky holding him like this, touching him like this, all his worries seem to simply disappear from his mind and existence itself. And the fact of the matter is, when Bucky ripped away that unknown alpha, he did it out of the protectiveness in his heart. Bucky hums, using both hands to effectively lift Steve off the ground and wrap the omega’s legs around his hips. Steve lets out a choked moan at his newfound position, his hands traveling around Bucky’s shoulders for a better grip.

“Go on, sweetheart, pull it Stevie,” Bucky husks when Steve’s hands migrate into Bucky’s hair, his fingers tangling in the soft, silky strands, as the alpha pushes him tighter against the wall. Steve can feel the alpha’s erection through their clothes, the solid member running alongside his own and making his head spin in wondrous ways.

“Alright Steve,” Bucky pants harshly. “You caught me, and  _ fuck _ I thought I could go on without carin’ for ya, or wantin’ ya or needin’ ya; but the thing is sweetheart, I just fucking  _ can’t _ . I can’t go on anymore pretendin’ like I don’t care about ya, because you’re right Stevie.” Steve lets out a whimper at Bucky’s words, his lips parting with an elated sigh.  _ Yes _ , He thinks,  _ I knew he cared…  _

“You’re so right, Stevie. So damn right. And hell, we might get killed for this, but I can’t go another day without touchin’ you. I don’t care what anyone does to me, as long as I can hold you, even if it’s just for tonight, then it’s all worth it.  _ You’re worth it, Steve _ .”

“Bucky–” Steve breathes out heavily, only for Bucky to capture his mouth once more, effectively silencing him. “God Stevie, I can treat you right, just like you wanna be. I would ask you for consent  _ every single time _ because you  _ deserve _ to be heard. Do you think that that goddamned asshole who was touchin’ you earlier would do the same? I bet he didn’t even  _ ask _ before going to town on ya.”

_ Bucky’s right _ , Steve realizes suddenly. That alpha, the unknown, unruly, alpha, did not even bother to ask for consent; regardless of how much Steve wanted to be touched, consent is something that should always be asked for. Bucky seems to sense his internal debate, growling possessively and gripping his thighs even harder; not enough to hurt, oh no, but just enough to know that here, in this moment, he belongs to Bucky and Bucky alone. “I swear, Steve. If I see that fucker again, I’m going to  _ lose it _ . He  _ touched _ you without askin’, he  _ kissed _ you, he  _ held _ you… no. He isn’t going to touch you ever again, sweetheart, I can promise you that.”

“Buck… more, please I… Bucky  _ please _ ,” Steve whines, gripping Bucky’s hair tightly before releasing with a moan as Bucky grinds their cocks together, his stormy grey eyes boring deep into Steve’s light baby blue’s. “So sweet, so perfect here in my arms, you've got no idea, sweetheart. Can you come for me, Stevie? Can you —  _ oh fuck sweetheart, so good, fuck—  _ make a mess for me, baby?”

Steve cries out, panting hard and grabbing at Bucky's shoulders, bracing himself for his approaching orgasm. He can smell Bucky's overwhelming scent covering him like a protective blanket, marking him delicately and making him feel  _ safe _ . He needs him, more than he can even comprehend.  _ They _ need each other.

“Bucky!” Bucky lets out yet another low growl at Steve’s desperate pleas of release, sending Steve spiraling down a tunnel of pure ecstasy. “Please, Buck– I need, I’m gonna–”

“Come,” Bucky murmurs, shutting his eyes and reconnecting their lips aggressively, slipping his tongue inside once more. All of this, Bucky’s strong hands, his sinful, gorgeous mouth, his body, his loving words… Steve cannot do anything else but obey his alpha. With his fingers twisted in Bucky’s hair, legs wrapped tight around Bucky’s body, their tongues fighting for dominance, Steve comes heatedly in his trousers. Pleasure rolls down his body in waves, coating his senses and making him feel lighter than air. It is not but a few seconds later before Bucky’s own body jerks, halting in its movements completely. Bucky moans into Steve’s mouth, his hands gripping tighter to Steve’s hips as he overcomes his own orgasm.

“Steve…” Bucky mumbles against his lips, holding onto the blond’s small body as if it were a lifeline.

“Bucky, I…”  _ I love you. Do you even know what you mean to me? You saved me, in more ways than I can even count. You don’t even know the effect you have on me. Please don’t ever let me go, Buck. I need you, I want you, I love you… _

Bucky gently sets him back down on his feet, their movements slow and aching. Steve’s entire body is numb; the good, joyous type of numb. Once he is standing upright, Steve clings to Bucky’s body in fear that he might fall over. “Careful sweetheart,” Bucky whispers, wrapping his arms around Steve to steady him. Steve looks up at Bucky’s towering form as his hands move to frame Bucky’s face smoothly. “Steve…”

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” Steve interjects, surprising the alpha. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. God Buck, I’m such a mess–”

“No no, sweetheart… Steve you don’t gotta apologize,” Bucky’s hands travel up his little body, past the curvature of his sharp hips, along and up the sides of his stomach, until his large hands are upon Steve’s face. His thumb runs across the lines of Steve’s cheekbones, the sharp edges of his jaw, the outline of his lips, both their eyes filling with water. Bucky pulls a small smile, wiping away a tear from Steve’s eye and leaning down to place a soft, loving kiss on Steve’s lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Stevie. You don’t know, fuck you can’t even understand, how much I’ve been wanting you… but, baby, we can’t do this again…”

“What? Bucky no, you just said—no, no you can’t–”

Bucky kisses him again, yet this time, it is fierce and powerful, so full of passion that it makes Steve’s knees weak.  _ He’s saying goodbye _ , Steve realizes, kissing back with everything he has.  _ He’s going to leave me. No, no no no, please don’t leave me, Buck. _

“Sweetheart, it’s for your own good.” Bucky says softly, trying to reason with him. “If they find out that I lo– that I care about you… Steve, they’re not going to stop until they kill you. I won’t be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you because of me. Do you understand?”

“But, I can protect myself jus’ fine, Buck!” Steve whimpers sadly, desperately trying to find a way for Bucky to change his mind. Bucky cannot just leave him like this, they have come so far in so little time, it is becoming hard for Steve to remember what life was like  _ before _ he gave his heart to the alpha. Their days revolve around each other, they have become accustomed to each other’s habits and lifestyles. Steve does not even want to leave the  _ Mors Hibernis _ any longer, because wherever that ship goes, Bucky goes too. And Steve would follow Bucky to the ends of the earth if it meant that they could be together.

“I know you can, Stevie,” Bucky rests his forehead against Steve, closing his eyes tightly. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. You’re so brave, so courageous, so… so…  _ perfect _ ,” Bucky’s breath hitches, halting his speech for a few seconds. The brunet kisses the top of Steve’s head, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “But Steve… Steve, I can’t and  _ I won’t _ put you at risk.”

“Bucky,  _ no– _ ” Steve’s hands grab at his shirt, trying to keep Bucky in place as the latter begins to peel himself from Steve’s body. Tears rush down his face as he mumbles quiet  _ ‘no’ _ s, and he nearly begins to sob when Bucky’s hands move towards his. “Bucky  _ please _ , Bucky I need you…” Bucky’s hands hesitate, just barely but enough for Steve to notice, before they gather up Steve’s, gently and carefully, and remove them from his shirt. “No, Bucky stop, Bucky you can’t–”

“Steve, sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I should have never dragged you into this, I shoulda saved you when I had the chance… It’s time for me to go…” Bucky takes a step back, regretfully letting go of Steve’s artistic hands. When Steve tries to make a move at Bucky again, in an effort to stop him from leaving, the brunet lets out a low growl. A command, keeping him stuck in his spot. “I’m sorry, Steve I…”

“Please don’t leave me, Bucky…” The water in his eyes is making Steve’s vision incredibly blurry, to the point that he does not see Bucky come in for an embrace until he feels the alpha’s strong arms wrapping around him, holding him close for one last time. “Don’t ever forget me, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, placing one last kiss on Steve’s lips before tearing himself away.

Steve watches, through tears, sorrow, and a broken heart, as Bucky walks away, turning past the boxes they were hiding behind and in the direction of his ship. From his position, he doesn’t see the way Bucky falls to his knees near his ship, grabbing his hair as he sobs quietly, murmuring broken apologies that Steve will never hear. Murmuring silent confessions that he wishes he could have told Steve when the omega was in his arms, their lips touching in ways that he had been waiting for so long to occur. Steve doesn’t see the way Bucky struggles to pick himself up, staggering up the ramp to his ship as he tries but fails to wipe the tears streaming down his face, disappearing into his cabin to finally allow himself the space and solitude to grieve.

Steve emerges from the boxes a few minutes later, his eyes puffed and red, and his heart in pieces. He turns his head to look upon Bucky’s ship, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out. He wants to be with Bucky. He knows that, while being a rather small omega, he can protect himself perfectly fine. And in the worst case scenario, Steve knows for a fact that Bucky is extremely capable of keeping him safe. Bucky’s order was to not forget him, and the best way to not forget someone is to be with them. With a saddened yet determined look on his face, Steve follows his heart and lets his feet guide him to where he knows he must go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you liked this, be sure to leave a comments/kudos, because it is the support that encourages me to keep writing!! :)
> 
> Come party with me on [Tumblr!](https://jaybird6232.tumblr.com/)


	7. A Heated Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Staring at the very last box standing in-between him and his desirable objective, the source of that delicious scent, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a deep breath, his arms moving to lift the box carefully and gently; this is not cheap cargo in the slightest. He slowly, ever so slow, allows his eyes to lazily open, preparing himself for the worst… that Steve will not really be here… But when his eyes land upon a small, blond haired blue eyed sleeping angel, tears begin to pool in his eyes as a smile breaks across his lips.
> 
> _“Steve.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG TIME, NO CHAPTER!!
> 
> So so sorry for the delay in getting this out, please forgive me!! I hope all of you have been doing well, and had a wonderful and safe New Years!
> 
> Enjoy my lovelies! ❤︎

Bucky stumbles into his cabin with a broken sob, his hands fumbling with the door until he manages to shut it tightly. Laying his back against the entry, his body slides down, inch by crippled inch, before he finds himself fully seated on the ground, nothing but an empty shell with a broken heart. Tears stream down his face in a rapid fashion, his vision completely blurred and stained with sorrow.

Bucky thought, he truly believed, that he was doing right by letting Steve go. He was allowing Steve a chance to find his old shipmates and friends, and escape the tortures of the sea. To escape from Hydra. To escape from  _him_. Now Steve has the chance to be free, to fully live out his life and find and an alpha who can and will give him the world; Steve deserves only the very best.

Now the thought of Steve being in another’s arms seems to be the universe’s cruelest punishment for him. Bucky cannot bear to even think about Steve finding pleasure in an alpha besides himself, it simply destroys his very soul. Bucky never wanted to let go of his– _no_ , not his… even though that’s all he wants– omega, that was never an urging desire. He wanted to wrap Steve up in all the riches he acquired, coodle him in the softest velvet and silk, cover him in want and devotion and pure  _love_. Prove to Steve how amazing the blond really is, worship the very floor he walked upon with earnesty and dedication, he would’ve done whatever it took. Yet while Bucky never wanted to let him go, he knew that he needed to.

Steve, darling, gorgeous, sweet little Steve, would never be able to have a prosperous life out on the seas. There would never be a guarantee that he would live to see the next sunrise, even if Bucky fought to the death to keep him safe. The seas take what they want without warrant or question, and if Bucky could make sure that the seas could never harm Steve, he would take any necessary precaution. But he _hates it_. He absolutely despises himself for letting Steve go.

Steve was  _there_ , right  _fucking_   _there_  in his arms. Those soft, plush lips against his own, pulling moans and grunts of pleasure from each other. Their bodies pressed against one another hard enough to break bone. His hands, roaming every part of Steve that he could touch. He wants to know what it would be like to truly show Steve the ultimate pleasures in life. He wants to experience the rest of his days with Steve in his arms, their marks on each other’s neck and their pup, or pups, running around without a care in the world. Bucky would give up everything he has to be with Steve once more, but he knows that it is in Steve’s best interest and protection if he stays as far away from him as possible.

Bucky cracks open his eyes, staring across his cabin in despair. Steve’s lively and joyous presence used to dwell here and keep him company, filling his days with laughter and happiness. Now all that exists is nothing but the stale and desolate air filling the room, choking Bucky with sorrow. Everything seems darker now, as if the world and everything inside it has suddenly lost its colour. Nothing has _life_ anymore, everything is simply… dull. And Bucky hates it, he dreads this feeling numbing his body. Without Steve, without his darling little omega by his side, nothing seems to matter anymore. He just wants  _Steve_.

As his vision begins to clear, painfully slow, Bucky notices the small makeshift bed in the corner of the room. He wastes no times scrambling over to it, his knees weak and arms aching violently. How long has he been lying by the door? Minutes? Hours? Days?  _It doesn’t matter now_ , Bucky curses to himself, crawling under the blankets and inhaling the remnants of Steve’s presence. It smells like heaven and hell all at once, bringing love to his heart and tears to his eyes once more. He is surrounded by what practically  _screams_ Steve, yet Steve is nowhere to be found. Bucky burrows his nose into Steve’s poor excuse of a pillow, memories flooding down in a waterfall of tears.

_“So, now that you’re gonna be staying here for the next few weeks, I suggest you get comfortable,” Bucky mutters from his bedside as he prepared to settle in for the night. It has been five whole days since Steve has stepped foot on Mors Hibernis, but he has yet to make himself an optimal place to sleep in Bucky’s cabin. He has resorted to using the window seat near Bucky’s desk for the time being, but after living in this room for years, Bucky knows that that seat becomes uncomfortable after awhile._

_“I am perfectly fine, thanks,” Steve remarks coldly, slipping off his shoes and curling up against the glass. Bucky’s eyes narrow and he throws his coat on his bed harshly; he’s had it. Yes he understands that Steve is still sore with him about his capture and his inability to deliver him home right at this moment; however, he will not let the blond’s attitude get in the way of his comfort. The garment slips off the bed and falls to the floor, pulling a flinch from Steve and the latter turns over, his eyes wide and worried._

_“You know what? No.”_

_Surprise covers Steve’s expression almost instantaneously. “Excuse me?” Bucky swallows carefully, knowing that he’s treading in far more dangerous waters than the ones surrounding this ship. It is clear that bossing Steve around seems to upset the omega, but if it will get him off the seat and more comfortable, Bucky does not mind if he gets yelled at._

_“I said no,” Bucky repeats sternly, crossing his arms with shallow confidence, watching Steve sit up curiously across the room. “I’m not an idiot, Steven. You think I don’t know how uncomfortable that piece of shit is?” Steve moves to open his mouth and retort, but Bucky barrels through. “It is not, an’ you ain’t gonna convince me that it is. Get off your ass and take my bed.”_

_“I don’t want your bed,” Steve replies, mimicking Bucky and crossing his own arms, furrowing his eyebrows in defiance. “I didn’t ask if you wanted it, I’m_ **_telling_ ** _you that you’re having it,” Bucky growls, his alpha hindbrain bubbling beneath the surface, every instinct telling him to take care of Steve with the utmost attention and show him that it’s in Steve’s best interest._

_Steve finally stands, his hands gluing themselves to his hips like the sassy little shit he is. “No,” He states clearly, and begins to walk towards the alpha. At first, Bucky thinks that Steve is going to smack him upside the head for his act of dominance. But his thoughts morph into confusion when he turns around to look upon his cabin mate. “Steve I’m not giving you an option, yer gonna – what the fuck are you doing?”_

_Even though Steve’s head is not turned to face him, he knows that the man is smirking at full force. Bucky stands there, completely still and absolutely dumbfounded at the sight before him: Steve is pulling off each and every blanket covering Bucky’s mattress, the layers of cloth bundled up in his arms so much so that he is unable to see a metre in front of him. “I’m stealing your sheets, stupid.”_

_“Why–” Bucky begins to let out a husky chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Why not just sleep in the bed?”_

_“The floor is better company than your dumb face; it don’t talk back.” Steve says simply, waddling over like a duck to the corner of the cabin, dropping the sheets on the ground into a giant pile, then jumping atop them, crawling inside completely until no part of his small body is seen. At this, Bucky folds over laughing, his hands clutching at his sides with a vice grip and tears brim in the corners of his eyes. It will probably leave bruises by daybreak, but this moment is worth it all._

_“Fuck you, Rogers! I’m great company!” Bucky hollars to the omega, no malice behind his words as he takes a few calming breaths. “Oh eat my fucking ass, Barnes!” Steve yells, the sheets dampening his his remark to a quiet mumble._

Bucky does not realize he is sobbing until he comes out of his trance of memories. The sheets beneath him are soaked in salted tears, wet and matted and disgusting but he does not give a single care at the moment. He let go of the only thing, the only person, he cared about. Nothing matters anymore. His entire world, his reason for living… he left him on the docks, utterly alone but safe from the terrors of Bucky’s world. He did what he was supposed to do… right?

_… right?_

___________________________________________________________

 

Opening the door of his cabin the next morning takes every ounce of courage and strength that Bucky possesses. His mind and his thoughts are as cloudy as the sky above him, shrouding him in despair and regret. He had the utmost difficult time even getting _dressed_ this morning; he had broken down to tears once more when he gathered his boots by the door of his cabin, a simple habit he had picked up from Steve during the latter’s stay. Steve had always insisted that their shoes be kept by the door, and taken off as soon as they got inside.

He hates this feeling; this broken feeling of weakness and loneliness. Before meeting Steve, he was perfectly fine with living out the rest of his days on this pathetic planet alone. He did not want friends, nor did he need them. He is a Captain after all, and he has much more problematic tasks to worry about. Yet Steve… Steve had changed all of that for him. Steve had made him realize that he is not living his life to the best of its ability. He is putting more dedication into his occupation than he really should be. He  _wants_ friends now, but more importantly and above all, he just wants Steve  _back._

But Steve is never coming back, and it is his own damn fault. If anyone were to find out about what they had done together only the night before and what it had meant for them, Steve would be killed, and Bucky does not think that he is strong enough to protect the omega from danger. Possibly to some extent, but how long could he pull that off to keep Steve alive?

Sighing heavily, Bucky shakes his head. Steve is gone now, whatever he could have done or should have done… it doesn’t matter anymore. Stepping out of his cabin, Bucky stands outside his door and looks out to the deck of his ship. It is empty and barren, vacant of any of his crew members who are currently all sleeping below deck. Even his first mate Rumlow is not at his position by the wheel, his scent emanating from beneath the wooden boards under his feet. Thank goodness that the seas are relatively calm this morning, or else he’d have Rumlow’s head for abandoning his post. Up ahead, all their new supplies are stacked along the edges of the railing, waiting for Bucky’s inventory check and unloading later on this afternoon, but at the moment he has no energy to even think about them.

He considers on going back to sleep and let Rumlow take over the ship, just for today. He does not want to see anyone or deal with any questions his crew may have for him. It is immature and selfish, but at this point, he’s about ready to throw himself off the side of this damned ship and let the waves carry him off to wherever they see fit. He turns around, finally settling on the idea to simply go back inside and get out of this cold, miserable weather, when he smells it. That amazing, tempting, and tantalizing scent that he has become so incredibly familiar with.

Cocoa.

Sweet cream.

Strawberries.

_Steve._

The thought of his omega being nearby and the presence of his smell send Bucky barreling a few steps back, his chest heaving and eyes wide.  _This is some sort of trick_ , he thinks coldly, heart racing and body shivering.  _Some stupidly cruel trick that the sea is playing on me_. But that does not stop his nose from sniffing wildly into the air, trying to find the source of the smell; trying to find Steve.

His head whips around, his focus completely turned away from the cabin and now on a stack of boxes on the far end of his ship, nestled quietly in the corner. Without thinking twice, his feet fly across the deck of his vessel, arms pumping wildly as he struggles to get to his destination as fast as humanly possible. Bucky knows that Steve _shouldn’t_ be here; that there is absolutely no way that he  _could_ be here. Yet something in Bucky’s gut is telling him otherwise. Or it could simply the overly potent scent filling the air to the brim. He overshoots his goal and his entire body slams into the mast, but that does no damage to his spirit for he stands up and continues, determination keeping him from giving up. Finally reaching his objective, Bucky scrambles over, breathing heavily as he roughly shoves aside a large container, clearing an unnatural path in his wake. As each box disappears from view, the more anxious he becomes; what if this is only his mind playing tricks on him? Filling him with so much hope only because his heart cannot bear to be alone?

Staring at the very last box standing in-between him and his desirable objective, the source of that delicious scent, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and takes in a deep breath, his arms moving to lift the box carefully and gently; this is not cheap cargo in the slightest. He slowly, ever so slow, allows his eyes to lazily open, preparing himself for the worst… that Steve will not really be here… But when his eyes land upon a small, blond haired blue eyed sleeping angel, tears begin to pool in his eyes as a smile breaks across his lips.

_“Steve,”_  Bucky mutters, scurrying over to the curled up unconscious omega, not at all hesitating to delicately gather up Steve in his arms and hold him close to his chest.  _It’s Steve… he’s here… he’s really here_ … He repeats Steve’s name like a mantra, gently rocking back and forth as best he can from his seated position. Despite the bitter cold layering this ungodly ship from top to bottom, Steve’s body is burning, almost scalding to the touch; but Bucky does not care in the slightest. If anything, he holds Steve’s body tighter. He does not know why Steve came back or how he was able to sneak back on the ship in the first place, but it has no matter now. Steve is  _here_ , and Bucky would be a downright fool to ever let him go again.

Bucky brings one hand to Steve’s face, his fingers running over the blond’s flushed cheeks and his rose-petal red tinted nose. With shaky hands and staggering breath, he brushes aside a few strands of blond hair from Steve’s forehead to reveal a small, jagged scar at the top of his hairline. A fresh wave of tears spring from Bucky’s eyes as he brings Steve’s head into the crook of his neck. _This is Steve, this is my Steve._ _This is real. He’s here_. Bucky would recognize that scar anywhere, he is practically the reason as to why Steve even acquires it in the first place. The omega had tripped over Bucky’s shoes, which the alpha had haphazardly left in the middle of the cabin, and ungracefully smacked his head on the corner of the Bucky’s desk. After a few curse words and blood-soaked cloths, Bucky had cleaned the wound expertly and wonderfully, only receiving a few small glares from Steve in the process. This scar says it all, this is really  _Steve_.

With Steve cradled in his arms, sleeping peacefully and looking like the most beautiful being Bucky has ever laid eyes on, he delicately stands and begins his trek back towards the cabin. Each step is guided only by his memory, his focus completely directed on Steve’s pattern of breathing; his lips are parted every so slightly that it makes him want to lean down and taste them, as he did only the night before; his hair a ruffled mess, but it frames his face wonderfully; his hands unconsciously gripping to the lapels of Bucky’s coat, as if even in his sleep rendered state, he is afraid of leaving Bucky’s embrace. The action pulls a soft, pained whimper from Bucky’s throat, his heart aching at the mere thought of ever leaving Steve again. Adjusting Steve’s body carefully in his arms, he moves just enough to tuck Steve’s head back into his neck, and he does not hesitate to lean down and press a lasting, loving kiss to the omega’s tear-stained cheeks.  _I missed you, Stevie._  A sleepy smile forms upon Steve’s lips, his nightmares of abandonment now replaced with soothing dreams of home.

It does not take long before Bucky has reached the threshold of his cabin once more, so he carefully maneuvers himself, as so not to wake up his sleeping darling, and opens the door, stepping through and kicking it gently shut behind him. He manages to latch closed each lock, keeping the outside world where it belongs; far away from them and their secluded bubble of peace. Bucky does not wish for them to be disturbed by any nosey alphas on this ship, this time is just for the two of them. Walking across the warm, comfortable room, the floorboards creaking subtly as he does, he proceeds to his freshly made bed and stops beside it. With Steve currently fast asleep in his arms, there is no way that the omega can object to where Bucky is placing him, and it sends relief over Bucky’s bones when he realizes that Steve will finally be sleeping in an actual bed, as opposed to a crumby pile of sheets stowed away in a dusty corner. Shifting around the fresh set of linen on his mattress just enough to make room, he gently lays the blond’s body down upon it, resting his head on cushioned pillow and covering his generously; if it is a fever Steve has, then he will most definitely feel a chill when he awakens.

And Bucky will be there when he does. Bucky has no plans to leave Steve’s bedside until the latter has arisen from his drowsy trance, or ever again for that matter. Whatever may come their way, threatening or not, they will deal with it together. He will fight to the very end if it meant they could be together, for now he realizes that not even death will ever be as painful as it was when he lost Steve.

___________________________________________________________

 

The bar is cold and desolate, only a few patrons scattered along the layout. The air, ever so still, fills the room laced with pain and regret, the taste of it enough to make on gag. Musicians, their instruments tossed aside carelessly on the wooden, wet floor, are passed out atop each other in the back corner, lulled to sleep by the alcohol in their blood and the quietness in the tavern. Alone at the counter sits an alpha, body hunched over, elbows resting on the counter, and feet mindlessly swaying back and forth, her legs not quite long enough to reach the ground.

Her spirit, one that used to be as fiery as her radiant hair, is drained away with each passing moment. With an empty bottle in hand, one that she has been nursing for nearly the past hour, she continues to drill invisible holes into the wood beneath her arms as lanterns flicker passively in the background behind her.

This has been her scene for closely over two months, one disgusting alcoholic palace to another, in hopes that she can drown out her sorrows and mistakes in a beverage created to make one forget. Forget about what she could have done, what she _should_ have done; maybe if she could forget of what her actions had caused, then it could be possible that nothing had happened at all, and everything could go back to the way it was before. But with every drink she orders and with every shilling she loses, it becomes apparent that nothing she is doing has worked.

“Another drink, ma’am?” The bartender, a humble beta she has come to respect rather quickly, asks quietly, the tone in his voice filled with one of pity. She makes no verbal response, instead opting to push the bottle in front of her with a curt nod, propping her head in her hands and running her fingers through her hair, tugging at the blood-red strands.

“You know, no matter how many drinks you buy, it won’t change what happened,” DumDum mutters from her right side, his hands clasped together over the counter as he watches the bartender bustle about. Next to him, Maria lets out a degraded sigh, pushing forward her own bottle in disgust. “Dougan, we talked about this…”

“Maria, don't—” Sam tries to cut in, putting a hand on Maria’s arm gently, but it is too late for his input to be heard.

“Talked about what, Maria?” DumDum spits out angrily. “Did we talk about sitting here on our asses and not doing anything? Did we talk about being cowards and acting sorry for ourselves? Because I sure as hell don't remember that fuckin’ conversation. What happened was  _all_  of our faults, but we aren't doing anything to fix it and I'm not just going to sit here any longer while he's out there. We need to stop gloating and complaining and actually  _do_  something, because it seems like none of you care and—”

“Dougan, enough,” Clint comes up behind his alpha, giving DumDum a stern glare, a clear look of upcoming challenge. DumDum scoffs and abruptly gets up from his seat, mumbling something about waiting outside. Clint looks over his alpha’s shoulder to see Sam and Maria staring at each other, their lips unmoving and eyes broken, and he understands exactly why. It is he same reason why they are all feeling this way: uncertain, scared, tired, and dejected, as if they are so utterly lost that they have completely forgotten how to function anymore. A tear slips from Sam’s eyes, and then from Maria's, their hands gripping each other's tight with a vice grip.

“Sweetheart?” Clint whispers quietly, slowly sliding into a chair and taking a seat to his alpha’s left, his moving to her upper back. He rubs small circles with his hand, hoping that his actions will ease her back to reality.

“I promised him…” Natasha says painfully, although her voice is barely able to be heard. It's rough and cracked, laced with agony and hopelessness. Defeat. She has not spoken much since that fateful night, other than the words she tells herself as she cries, and a small, painful phrase: _I promised him_.

She blames herself for Steve’s capture every breathing minute of each day, and each time her omega tries his hardest to convince her that it is in no way her fault, it simply never seems to work. Natasha cannot help but feel that Steve's absence is her doing, or lack thereof, and it kills her. Eating away at her from the inside out, every filthy voice reminding her of what she could have done, and what she inevitably did not do.

“Nat…” Clint attempts once more but stops himself early, knowing that no matter how hard he tries, she will not change her mind.

“He trusted me, Clint…” Clint's head snaps up, eyes wide as he turns to look at her. Natasha's ability to create and carry any form of a conversation has gone down considerably, her new form of life being one of solitude and silence. She understands his shock.

“He trusted me, with his life. I told him I'd be there and I wasn't, my ass was in the water and he… he was all alone. The way he looked at me… I don't think I've ever seen a’ lick of fear in that man’s eyes since we were kids… But when he looked at me like that… Clint, he was terrified…

“I see that look every single time I close my eyes… I see how he turned around like the righteous little shit he is and just, stand up to them as if they were nothing. I see how they, how they… how they fuckin’  _hit_  him and  _I_   _did nothing to stop it._ ”

“Oh Nat…”

“I promised Sarah I'd never let him out of my sight, I  _promised_ her. I told her I'd take care of him and I'd never leave him. But now he's gone and it's all my fault…” Her whispers are filled with sadness and regret, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Flashbacks of her childhood play before in her mind, a tear falling gracefully down her cheek.

“He used to to call me ‘Fire Lily’ when we were kids,” Natasha recalls with a sniffle. The numb feeling of Clint's hand on her back keeps her grounded in this moment; she doesn't know what she would do without him. “I called him ‘Little Bird’ a lot, he hated it so much…” A small chuckle leaves her lips, but it is full of nothing but pain. “I still remember the day Sarah died… he was just… gone. Like his spirit and soul left when she did. And just when I thought I got part of him back… I lost him…”

“We’ll find him, sweetheart.” Clint supplies urgently, not wanting her to lose any speck of hope that might still linger inside her. “I know we will.”

Natasha’s eyes harden with something she has not felt in months: determination. She stands up from her seat all of a sudden, pulling Clint to his feet as well. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she tugs him towards her and connects their lips, pulling a satisfying whimper from her omega. God, how she loves that sound so. After a few moments they pull apart, the dazed and blissful look in Clint’s eyes giving her the fulfillment that she needs.

“You’re right, my love. We will,” Natasha reaches over and grabs her new drink from the counter, downing it in one go before slapping it down back down, the force leaving a spiderweb of cracks along the glass. Tossing a shilling to the bartender, she straightens her coat and begins to walk towards the exit.

“Where are you going?” Clint calls out, his voice soft and distracted still. A smirk crosses Natasha’s features as she grabs her hat from the stand near the door, “To find a ship. To find Steve.” With that, Natasha waves her hand and signals for the rest of her crew to follow her out into the streets, who all obediently leave from their seats and trail after their Captain. Clint follows close behind, a dreamy smile sticking to his features as he intertwines his hand with his alpha’s, walking out of the tavern like an army preparing for war.  _There she is. That’s my girl._

___________________________________________________________

 

It has nearly been two hours since he has brought Steve back to his cabin, and he has yet to rise from his peaceful state of slumber. The omega’s chest rises and falls in tandem with Bucky’s own, the alpha still sitting in a wooden chair at his bedside just as promised. Both his hands loosely hold Steve’s left hand, his thumbs mindlessly caressing the smooth pale skin with earnest. Every few minutes or so, he will lean down and press a chaste kiss to Steve’s wrist, before running his thumbs over the area soon after. With Steve fast asleep in his bed, Bucky takes the time to admire the man in all his glory.

The way Steve’s eyelashes fan over his rosy-red cheeks, the lashes running on for miles and miles without end. His lips, plush and parted as he breathes, are so utterly tempting to kiss. To bite. To worship with his own. Bucky still remembers how they tasted last night, as sweet as the finest sugar in Europe; he remembers exactly how they felt against his, so perfect and luscious, unlike anything he has ever experienced before. Every experience that he has had with any other omega has completely washed away, the only thing on his mind being Steve, and he does not mind it one bit. Steve’s nose twitches in his sleep, just once, but it is enough to send Bucky’s heart soaring once again; it is seemingly insane how one simple action can make his entire universe brighter, life was never like this before he met Steve.

He is about to lean down once more, to press another loving kiss to Steve’s hand, when the omega lets out a small noise. His eyes shoot upwards, body frozen in its place as he watches Steve carefully, suspense filling the air around them as he waits. Steve’s eyebrows furrow lazily as he regains some level of consciousness, a soft groan leaving his lips as he does. His eyes, those beautiful, stunning baby blues, flutter open slowly, his lids heavy with exhaustion.

It takes a few seconds and a few blinks for Steve to be capable of fully opening his eyes, but even then he is still subtly squinting. His eyes dart around the ceiling, taking in every detail that he possibly can about his new surroundings. Steve’s left hand wiggles subconsciously in Bucky’s grip, causing the omega to look down when his movement is limited by Bucky’s own hands. Spotting Bucky’s hand, Steve’s eyes widen and trail up the alpha’s arms in wonderment, finally resting on his face after what feels to be an eternity.

_“Bucky…”_  Hearing Steve’s voice is similar to that of a symphony; soft and emotional, so full of love that it makes Bucky’s heart swell and tears spring from his eyes. His hands gather Steve’s even tighter, Bucky unabashedly scooting closer until they are nearly touching. “Hey Stevie…”

“ _Bucky…_ ” Steve repeats, a disbelieving smile edging on the corners of his lips as his breathing picks up. “Buck it’s… it’s you, Buck it’s– I thought–”

“It’s me, sweetheart. I promise you, it’s me. I’m here,” Bucky whispers reassuringly, bringing Steve’s hand to his lips, his own eyes closing as he at last places yet another kiss to the blond’s hand; and when he opens them, he notices tears pooling in Steve’s eyes. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, but he understands Steve’s spurning belief and surprise. He caused this, all of this. He was the one who left Steve out on the docks yesterday evening, hoping that Steve would be able to escape this horrible life with him and live a prosperous life. But now here he is, loving on Steve and showing him affection and care. Yes, care. These are the things that Steve does to him…

Bucky brings Steve’s hand to cup his cheek, the polished, delicate flesh brushing over Bucky’s light yet scratchy stubble, the sensation sending tears rolling down both their cheeks in synchronization. Steve makes a move to sit up, sending Bucky into immediate action to help, settling Steve comfortably on the mattress with the sheets pooling around his hips; the two of them stare at each other in silence, tears streaming and smiles broken, and the only thing Bucky can truly grasp in this moment is how beautiful Steve looks, and how unbelievably sorry he really is.

Steve lifts both hands from the bed, raising them to cup Bucky’s face tentatively. His thumbs caress Bucky’s cheeks as the latter tries to get closer to the touch, his face lying pliant in the hold of Steve’s artistic fingers. A wet, broken smile breaks out across Steve's plump lips as he lets out a tiny gasp, his throat catching on his tears and the overwhelming emotions passing through him. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Bucky's with a heartbreaking whimper, his hands continuing their loving ministrations.

“It's you…” Steve whispers painfully, his eyes shutting and releasing a flow of tears cascading down his cheeks. Bucky does his best to nod, a choked sob leaving his lips as he does so. “ _I missed you, Buck._ Please don't leave me again, I can't– it's just– Bucky it hurt so much. If you don't want me anymore, I'll understand… but you can't just leave me like that–”

Bucky cuts off his rambling with a swift kiss, and he relishes the taste of Steve's lips. They are just as he remembers, so incredibly sweet and delectable that it nearly drives him mad. Steve tastes of strawberries and the fuzziness of sleep, but it leaves Bucky starving for even more. Steve lets out another painful whimper when their lips collide, as if he is afraid that this will be the last moment of intimacy between them, forever. “There won't ever come a’ day where I won't be wantin’ ya, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs breathlessly when they pull apart, his hands traveling down the sides of Steve's lithe body, tracing each curve and dip with loving dedication, the electricity in his touch memorizing every minute detail. “I'll always be wantin’ ya, sweetheart. Always.”

Tilting his head down, his lips greet Steve’s with an aching hunger, one that only the omega’s presence and touch can fulfill. He loves every moment of it, and he cannot seem to get enough of this amazing intoxication he has been so desperately missing. Reaching forward, and waiting for an approving nod from Steve, Bucky pulls the covers aside violently, slipping his hands underneath Steve’s thighs, his grip gentle yet firm, and he does not hesitate to pull Steve into his lap. The blond lets out a soft moan against Bucky’s mouth, his arms winding around Bucky’s neck. Before Bucky can seem to stop himself, his hands move to hold Steve’s waist, his fingertips shakingly making their way under the bottom hem of Steve’s shirt. “Tell me to stop,” Bucky breathes out in-between kisses, his head becoming light and dizzy from Steve’s lips. “Don’t want–”  _Kiss._  “–you to–  _fuck_ –”  _Kiss._  “–regret anything.”  _Kiss_.

“ _Don’t stop, please don’t you dare stop,_ ” Steve retaliates, giving his hips a smooth, languid roll, both of their mouths dropping open at the marvelous feeling. Bucky moans against his lips, trying his best to pull Steve impossibly closer. And just when he does, as their moves and touches become more desperate and starved, a knock sounds at the door. They both pull away sharply, chests heaving and mouths gasping for air.

It’s Rumlow, he can tell by the ferocity of the knock. And it brings Bucky back to reality… he has a shipment he needs to take inventory of.

Every fibre of Bucky’s being is telling him not to even dare leave Steve. He has only just gotten him back in his arms, safe and sound and simply just where he belongs. His heart, one that used to be an empty shell, a poor excuse of a thing really, has been reconstructed with every breath Steve takes and with every kiss that has passed between them. He is not right without Steve near and by his side, yet the omega is not in acceptable physical condition to even step foot outside. (He still cannot determine whether or not Steve’s excessive rise in body temperature is the cause of a fever or something else).

“Steve, I–” Bucky starts to speak, but Steve cuts him off with a gentle  _‘shush’_ , his nimble thumbs running across his cheeks. Steve leans down to press another kiss on his lips before mumbling quietly, “Go. I know you need to. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

Will Steve ever cease to surprise him?

Bucky clutches Steve’s sides one last time, lurching forward to bite at Steve’s lips. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Don’t be late, Buck.”

Bucky chuckles, moving to stand and keeping Steve steady in the same movement. With the both of them on their feet, Bucky takes the time to look Steve deep in the eyes, before he lets out a gentle smile and pulls Steve close, his lips leaving a kiss to his messy-haired temple. “Never again, sweetheart. I’ll never be late again.”

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve watches with loving eyes as Bucky releases him from his embrace, his heart yearning for the contact again but deep down he knows and understands he must wait. Bucky has a job, a responsibility, and Steve cannot get in the way of that. Not only for his safety, which Bucky maintains is the only reason why, but also the alpha’s as well. If something were to happen to Bucky, something that, try as Steve might, he would not be able to prevent, Steve could not ever learn to live with himself.

His body is still tingling from where Bucky had touched him, his lips quivering and begging for attention. But he can wait. He can be a good omega for Bucky if Bucky wants that. He would do anything and everything to please his alpha. Even the thought makes Steve’s stomach fill with butterflies.

“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” Bucky whispers one last time, before carefully seating Steve on the bed and rushing over to his door, hastily throwing on his coat on the way. Before opening the door, he sends Steve a small wink and a smile; a promise of return. Steve sends Bucky off with a small wave, wiping away a streak of sweat from his forehead once the brunet has left the cabin. Odd…

Steve moves to stand, in hopes of finding something to do while he waits for Bucky to come back, when he feels a sharp pain in his abdomen. He falls to his knees with a distressed cry, his arms clutching his stomach in agony as his body shakes. Every single part of his tiny, frail body is burning up like an oven; his hands, his legs, his torso, everything. He tries and fails to call out for Bucky, the words staying lodged in his throat as a wail takes their place. Screwing his eyes shut for a few brief moments, the pain becoming almost completely overwhelming, Steve risks a look down at his trousers and lets out a horrified cry.  _It’s too soon, this shouldn’t be here yet. No it isn’t time yet._

But apparently it is, the soaked spot forming on his pants being a telltale sign.

His heat has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated next chapter... *hint hint, wink wink* ;)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you liked this, be sure to leave a comments/kudos, because it is the support that encourages me to keep writing!! :)
> 
> Come party with me on [Tumblr](https://jaybird6232.tumblr.com)


	8. I'm Falling In Love With You: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is unlike anyone he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, omega or not. Steve makes him feel things he has never truly felt before. Joy… Compassion… Tenderness. He does not understand why or how Steve has acquired this capability over him. He isn’t sure if he can properly describe it, this strange but glorious feeling that has buried itself deep within his soul, and it scares him a little that he cannot identify it...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA LOVELIES!! Long time, no post, huh? (look at me finally updating this story! yay!)  
> Sorry about the extremely long wait, heaven knows I've been wanting to post this chapter for the longest time. Hopefully the wait was worth it for these two :)
> 
> Enjoy ❤︎
> 
> [Some notes to make this chapter, future chapters, and this story in general, a bit more clear] [these notes only apply to _this_ A/B/O story, not every A/B/O story out there]  
>  -mating scent glands are on the _left_ shoulder  
>  -when an omega is mated by an alpha, the omega can become pregnant by that alpha _only_. Vice versa, if an alpha is mated by an omega, said alpha can only impregnate _that_ omega. Basically bonded for life in all capabilities.  
>  -omegas can only become pregnant if the alpha is in rut, it doesn't matter if the omega is in heat. Alpha must be in rut for any chance of pregnancy to occur  
> -the "stigma" in this world so-to-speak in regards to sex between alphas and omegas, is that omegas are simply a vessel for which the alpha finds pleasure, not caring what the omega might feel in return (BUCKY ISN'T LIKE THIS FYI, BUT I HOPE THIS EXPLAINS A LATER PART OF THIS CHAPTER. BUCKY IS NOT A CONCEITED DOUCHE-BAG ALPHA, HE IS GOOD. HOPEFULLY THIS MAKES SENSE WHEN READING)
> 
> I hope that sort of made sense. But if not, feel free to message me with questions or drop a comment to let me know your thoughts. :)
> 
> I won't take anymore of your time, enjoy!

_ No no no, this isn’t real. This absolutely cannot be happening _ .

Steve’s hands try to grab onto something, anything, that may help ground him in this moment. The only sensation he is capable of feeling is the scorching, hot pain coming from his abdomen, and he despises every single burning second of it. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes, his teeth clenched tight as his breathing becomes ragged and harsh. The cramps are nearly unbearable, his insides churning worse than butter. He has not felt this amount of excruciating pain in the longest time, he can hardly even remember what heats are really like. But with each shot of agony and violent throb in his side, it brings back memories of spending his heats alone in a locked room of Natasha’s home back in Spain; to keep him safe from any prowling alpha’s nearby that were brought near by his scent.

_ It’s too soon. Stop it, please make it stop. _

But unfortunately, his heat his here and he can do nothing to stop it, each stabbing burst of dread being a clear indication. He does his best to take gasping breaths and gather his bearings, his arms shaking violently as he tries to lift himself. A twisted cramp forms again on his lower stomach, sending him back down to the floor with a cry, his body shivering and quaking against the cold wood. 

_ Bucky it hurts. Buck, make it stop. _

Yet Bucky isn’t here to help, not that he would want to regardless. He would probably take one look at Steve’s body, covered from head to toe in sweat and arousal, his trousers half-soaked at this point, and become utterly disgusted and leave completely. It would not surprise him. Steve does not believe himself to be an attractive omega in the slightest, so he would not even be taken aback if Bucky simply left him alone to deal with his heat on his own. Steve’s convinced himself that Bucky’s loving words, those delicate, soft kisses that pass between them, the firm hands trailing every curvature of his figure… it is all some sort of delusional trick meant to break his heart.

He wants it to be true, oh how desperately he would love for it to be true. But he finds it extremely hard to believe or comprehend, his bodily appearance making his head fill with doubts. Bucky surely can do better than a sickly, worthless little omega like him. At this point, he is as right-minded as he can be, but he knows that within a few short hours, his heat will have completely taken over and turn him into a whining, needy omega. Bucky will never want him then, he might find Steve incredibly annoying.

Taking in deep, sobbing breaths, and pushing aside his horrid thoughts to focus on the task at hand, he tries again to get up. He does not make it very far, but with careful movements and hisses of pain, Steve finds himself leaning against the bed, his chest heaving intensely. The journey to get back on the mattress is grueling and almost unbearable, but he makes it; rolling over on his right side, his eyes stay trained on the door as he curls in on himself, his legs tucked under his arms as he waits for Bucky’s return.

One hour goes by slowly, each minute longer than the one before it. The cramps subside a generous amount, only leaving a dull ache in their place. He considers on changing into a pair of Bucky’s trousers, to rid himself of this sticky mess, but decides against it; the last thing he needs is for Bucky to become upset with him for ruining his clothing.

The next hour is nothing but a shaky, unstable blur. Steve thinks he falls asleep at some point, yet he has absolutely no clue. All he knows is that when he comes to his senses, he is beginning to enter the full and final stages of his pre-heat, meaning that he is being thrust into a mindset of arousal and nerves. His body still shivers, only this time it is due to the pressing feeling in his trousers and the wave of desire coating his bones. His conscience, level-headed thoughts, are buried deep in the farthest corners of his mind. Of course, he still acquires himself, but not in the full extent that he usually does. The only thing Steve can think of in this moment is the nagging pull he feels in his chest, his instincts demanding that he find an alpha capable of filling him with their knot. No one can blame him for his first thought of Bucky being that alpha.

Midway through the third hour, Steve gathers the courage to rise and he lifts himself ungracefully from the mattress, any pain he felt before being muted by throbbing hunger for relief and attention. It takes a great deal of concentration, something he can barely register, to make it to the cabin door. His eyes are dazed and his movements sloppy and uncoordinated; it takes nearly three tries to unhook the latch Bucky had locked from the outside, before he can pull the door open with a wimpy tug.

The sun blinds him almost instantly, causing him to move his arm over his face in such a slow manner that there is nearly no point in doing it at all. The next thing he notices is how quiet everything has suddenly become, the waves calmly brushing against the side of the vessel being the only source of noise, the noisy chatter muted. It takes him a few seconds to gather himself before he can remove his arm and lean up against the doorframe, taking in the view of the deck.

Now it is clear why everyone and everything has gone quiet: each member of Bucky’s crew is looking at him intently, their faces turned up into hungry expressions; their lips curled to form devilish, taunting smirks; their nostrils sniffing the air fixedly, flaring wildly as Steve’s scent passes by them in the soft breeze. It makes the blond’s body coil up in fear, he had forgotten about them completely. He was so focused on finding Bucky that the brunet’s crew had not even become a problematic regard. Steve’s head turns gently at the sound of running footsteps, and he lets out a shaky breath of relief, completely forgetting about the crew that is looking at him with ill-will:  _ Bucky is coming. _

“Alpha…” Steve mutters, making a lousy effort to move and unite with Bucky, but the latter does not allow it. Bucky eyes are worried and frightened, something Steve has never seen once before in those beautiful grey orbs. His rough, calloused hands grasp at Steve’s upper arms as he speaks in a hushed tone, “Rogers, get inside now.” At the sound of Bucky’s voice, Steve lets out the softest of moans, his hands trying to take ahold of Bucky’s body. “Buc–”

“You didn’t tell us your little whore was in heat, Barnes.” A voice growls menacingly from behind Bucky, but Steve is too focused on the smell his alpha’s scent filling his nose; too focused on the way his alpha’s hands feel on his arms; too focused on how close they are, not quite touching but nearly there.

Bucky’s arms are shaking now too, but Steve isn’t quite sure why. He isn’t quite sure of anything at this point, the only concrete thought is his alpha. His Bucky. “Rogers, you have to get–”

“That ain’t fair Cap’n, keeping him all to yourself. Hand him over,” Bucky’s eyes go hard, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes narrowing. He looks upset,  _ angry _ . If Steve were more aware of his surroundings, he would realize that Bucky is about to explode into a rage of fury, the look in his grey eyes murderous and cold. Bucky lets out a possessive growl, one that makes Steve’s knees go absolutely weak at the sound and left yearning to hear more. And that is where all hell begins to break loose.

A hand reaches over Bucky’s shoulder to try and make a grab for Steve. That action lands Bucky’s elbow straight into their face, sending that alpha reeling back with a howl. Bucky does not hesitate to push Steve back into the cabin as more hands reach for the little omega. Steve stumbles inside, watching in horror as Bucky yells out, “Stay inside!” before hauling the door shut violently.  _ No _ , Steve thinks warily,  _ stop hurting him! _ He crawls over to the door, trying to pull it open and help Bucky, only to find it locked again from the outside. He does his best to press his ear to the door, listening to the loud shouts and punches being let out, and he feels a pang of guilt hit his chest. This is his fault. All of this. He should have never come back, he is only becoming a burden upon Bucky. Steve sinks against the door as tears fill his eyes, his fist hitting the door with every scrap of effort he can collect, which is practically nothing at all.

_ “Stop it, stop hurting him…” _

___________________________________________________________

 

Bucky carefully opens the door to his cabin, quickly going through before slamming it tightly shut behind him, locking every latch with such accuracy that he surprises himself; these locks can keep Steve safe and protected from his crew bustling about just on the other side. Perhaps far better than Bucky ever could. His chest is heaving and he is out of breath, his body still vibrating with an unbelievable amount of anxiety. He still cannot comprehend what he has done, the memory of his actions burning deep into his mind.

Bucky never thought the day would come when he might possibly have to pull a gun upon his crew. His very own crew. His workers, the alphas who slave away day in and day out to keep this ship afloat and in pristine condition. The people who he trusts to save his life in a fight and follow him to the death in battle if the opportunity came about. His loyal, faithful crew who has never once given Bucky any reason to distrust them. But when they looked at Steve with those feral smiles and hungry grins, the salty air filled with their toxic pheromones, cocks no doubt swelling at the mere sight of the fertile omega… he saw nothing but red. Even Bucky had a rough time keeping his own composure; the soft, tufted look of Steve’s golden hair made him want to rub his face in and absorb every part of him; the debauched look in those angelic eyes nearly sent Bucky over the edge right then and there; the outline of Steve’s prick being shown through the soaked trousers made him want to take him apart. Steve looked of a mess. A filthy,  _ glorious _ mess. And Bucky did not want anyone else to witness perfection such as this.

When he ran over and collected Steve in his hands, the man was practically turned to molasses with his touch. And the way Steve called out to him, declaring Bucky his Alpha, it did things to his mind. Wonderful things that only Steve is capable of making possible. He wanted to live in that moment forever. But then there were hands everywhere, reaching over and under his body, in attempts to reach his vulnerable omega. He did not waste one second throwing Steve into the cabin, shoving off a few members of his crew from his body as he locked the door with a key. Bucky could smell Steve’s desperation and sorrow on the other side of the door, and he longed to comfort the blond in his arms. Yet the aggressive demands and orders coming from his crew was enough of an offset to drive him mad.

So when they had tried repeatedly to get through him and to the door, his hand reached for his belt and he took out his pistol. His hands were shaking and he could have sworn that a tear had fallen down his cheek, but he paid no mind to it. He stood guard by the door and did his best to block out the looks of shock coming from his crew as he pointed the unloaded weapon at them, not that they had to know it was unloaded however.

Bucky hates himself for his actions, but the thought of anyone having their hands running along Steve’s body, touching him in all the right places and making him come undone… he did not want anyone, especially  _ them _ , laying a single finger on his omega. That was his job now, his  _ privilege _ , and he’d be damned if anyone tried anything at all.

Once he is thoroughly finished securing his door, Bucky takes in a deep breath as he prepares himself to look over Steve, slipping off his shoes as he does so. Omega heats usually last over a week, some cases going as far as three weeks. No matter how long it lasts, Bucky will help Steve through it in any possible way. With a small shake to pump himself up, he turns around to happily tend to Steve’s needs.

Only to find him passed out on the ground a few feet from the end of the bed.

“Steve!” Bucky stammers, moving quickly to Steve’s side and kneeling beside him. Steve lets out a pained whimper when Bucky brushes aside his floppy hair from his forehead, Bucky letting out a sigh of relief in return; he would not know what to do if Steve had fallen asleep. He has been told once before that waking up an omega in heat can be dangerous, their senses far too unstable to truly comprehend everything occurring in their surroundings. Steve lazily moves his arms to try and grasp Bucky’s biceps, and Bucky immediately takes the hint; wrapping his arms carefully around Steve’s midsection and shoulders, he brings the smaller man to his feet. Steve’s eyes are still closed but he’s a moaning mess in Bucky’s hands, his face now tucked into the crook of the brunet’s neck and his nose brushing over Bucky’s scent gland, causing him to gasp and clutch at Steve’s shirt tightly.

_ “Steve…” _ Bucky has to bite his lip from letting out a whimper of his own, his hands neatly ripping the fabric of the omega’s clothing as the latter gives his neck a faint kitten lick, right over his scent gland and making his knees weak. Steve lets out a weak sound upon hearing the lost tone in Bucky’s voice, his hands attempting to achieve a tighter grip on the alpha. “Steve, Steve wait.”

The blond pulls away with a shuddering breath, apologies falling from his lips a mile a minute. “I’m sorry, I thought– fuck Bucky, I’m sorry!” Steve’s breathing picks up and Bucky pulls away, watching helplessly as tears stream down Steve’s cheeks. “I’ll leave ya alone, I didn’t mean– I’ll find someone else, I’m so sorry–”

Bucky cuts him off by crushing their bodies together when Steve moves to pull away, bringing his lips to Steve’s ear and whispering, “If ya think I’m gonna let some other alpha knot ya, then you’re dead wrong, omega.”, then nibbling at his ear lobe and feeling the man fall apart under his touch once more. He does everything in his power to keep himself from coming in his pants; his omega listens to him so well.

“I know how you operate, Stevie. And I know for a fact that I won’t let myself touch ya without explicit consent,” His lips begin their descent down Steve’s neck and across his right shoulder, kissing as far down as he can before his lips hit fabric. Giving Steve a quick little nip for good measure, he pulls away in time to see Steve pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, biting at it in pleasure with his eyes shut. “So what’ll it be, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes open to reveal those beautiful baby blues glazed over in ecstasy, the smell of his arousal filling Bucky’s nostrils and making him harden even more in his trousers, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep himself from thrusting his hips forwards into Steve. His mouth parts slightly, giving Bucky a glance of his pert little tongue, and he mutters three simple words that send Bucky’s heart thudding in his chest: _ “Take me, Bucky.” _

Finally releasing his anticipation, Bucky shoots forward and collides his lips with Steve's, their mouths moving together in perfect harmony and synchronization that they leave each other breathless within seconds. Steve whines against his lips, his skinny arms trailing across Bucky’s shoulders until they wrap around his neck, his fingers running through Bucky’s hair as he holds on for dear life. In retaliation, with a low growl emanating from his throat, his arms wrap around Steve’s lithe body, nearly bending the other man in half as he leans forward to deepen the kiss.

Steve takes him by surprise when he lifts himself onto Bucky, the blond’s thighs circling his hips, his ankles linking behind his back. Bucky, being unprepared for the sudden movement, stumbles slightly and nearly falls to the floor, barely making it to the wall to brace them. He unwraps his left arm from around Steve and catches them both on the wall, still holding Steve steady and safe as the latter assaults his lips.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbles, looking down at Steve with heavy eyes. Steve lets out a small ‘nuh uh’ and pulls himself up to reach Bucky’s lips again, practically climbing the alpha in his efforts. Righting himself, he moves to stand and presses Steve up against the wall, getting a better grip on the omega’s thighs. “Been here before, huh Stevie?”

“Yeah,” Steve pants, throwing his head back with a loud moan as Bucky rolls his hips. “ ‘Cept if you leave me again… I swear to fucking God, Buck…” Steve looks him dead in the eye, his gaze unwavering and firm. His pupils are dilated as  _ fuck _ , hardly any colour left in his eyes that is noticeable. But what strikes him is how guarded Steve’s eyes look in this moment, as if he is afraid of being abandoned once more. Bucky’s ignorance of the situation and his words hit him at once, and he silently curses himself for his stupidity. Not quite knowing what to say, he adjusts his grip on Steve to a tighter, softer hold, his hands slipping under the swell of the blond’s ass, and he carries him over to his awaiting bed, laying him down gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean– Steve I won’t, I promise you I won’t–”

“I know,” Steve interrupts, eyes shut as he nods tiredly against the pillow, his hands toying with Bucky’s locks mindlessly. He lets out a supple noise when Bucky strokes his cheek gently and tilts his head into Bucky’s touch, and Bucky cannot help the way his heart beats a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper in love with Steve. “I know you won’t,” Steve opens his eyes, this time far more vulnerable than before. “Prove me right.”

Bucky nods his head profusely, surging down to recapture Steve’s lips with an inconceivable amount of hunger and passion that it drives him mad with want. If it is proof of his security and devotion that Steve needs, then he will gladly give it. He wants Steve to know how much he matters to him, dammit he  _ needs _ Steve to know. To truly  _ understand _ . With careful movements, slow enough to allow Steve any necessary time to stop him, Bucky makes his way up Steve’s body, his hands brushing over the protrusion of his hips; the shallow of his stomach; the dip of his collarbones; until he reaches the first button of Steve’s shirt. With their tongues battling for dominance in a heated frenzy, Bucky unhooks the first button. Then the next, and the next, and the next, until Steve’s shirt falls open beneath him, the blond shivering slightly as Bucky lifts himself to stare at the masterpiece he has just unveiled.

_ He’s gorgeous, _ Bucky thinks without any hesitation, gazing down at the expanse of pale flesh with desire burning in his eyes. With his eyes wandering every inch of Steve’s glory, he cannot help the time he takes to admire the omega in his arms. Steve’s skin is so undeniably pale, it makes him want to mark him up with hickeys and bruises, just to see how beautiful the contrast of colour would be. His nipples are hardened from both the cool air and Bucky’s ministrations, and he is holding in every urge to lean down right now and pull it into his mouth. He must take too long, for the spectacular view gets covered up by the blond’s arms, those artistic fingers desperately trying to reclasp the buttons.

“I’m sorry, we can leave it closed…” Steve mutters, trying to sit up to button his shirt, his movements fumbled and unfocused. “I know it’s not–”

Bucky places his hands over Steve’s and silently pulls them away, the shirt falling open once more as he urges Steve to fully sit up, his hands taking their time on their journey up the blond’s stomach. When he reaches his shoulders, Bucky palms the fabric off of Steve’s body, mindlessly setting it aside as he presses on the centre of Steve’s chest to lay him back. Bucky is well aware of the calculating eyes observing him, watching curiously as he outlines the curves and points and roundoff edges of Steve’s majesty, taking in every minute detail with earnest.

His thumbs trail over a small white scar peeking out from beneath Steve’s trousers, a gentle hum leaving his lips as he does so. His fingers dance over the faint stretch marks lining Steve’s pelvis, a bit surprised on finding marks such as these on Steve, but loving the way they paint over his omega’s body; it’s so beautiful and so real, they bring a smile to his face. Smoothly, Bucky leans down and presses his lips to Steve’s rib cage, his tongue tasting the groves and protrusions of Steve’s bones, absorbing the very essence of Steve's soul in the process.

“Don't cover yer’self up, I've been dying to see what you look like underneath,” Bucky mutters, nosing his way across Steve's jawline before moving to his ear and whispering faintly,  _ “Every part of you.” _

He hears the way Steve swallows thickly at the tone of his voice, and he teases him with a small nip to his ear lobe as his hands travel south. Upon reaching the clasp of Steve’s trousers, Bucky waits patiently for permission to proceed, which comes to him in the form of a frantic nod only seconds later. He takes his sweet, precious time when he undoes the small hand of buttons keeping Steve’s member trapped, his hands brushing over the bulge and making Steve gasp.

“You-you sure? Bucky you don’t have to…”

“I know,” Bucky replies, establishing a firm grip on his pants before looking up, catching Steve’s stare as the latter looks down upon him with nervousness and tension lining his eyes. “But I want to.” With that, he tugs roughly at the material, pulling it all the way down to Steve’s knees in one fluid motion, growling when he sees the outline of heaven from Steve’s undergarments. “Yeah, I  _ really fuckin’ want to.” _

He nearly rips Steve’s pants in the process of tearing them off his legs, haphazardly tossing them as far as possible before mouthing his way up the blond’s thighs, absolutely loving the way they shiver under his lips, filled with anxiousness and just the pure feeling of desperation. Upon reaching the fabric of Steve’s underwear, he lets out a low sound, deep in his chest and filled with desire, and grips the waistband with his teeth. Steve gets the idea quick enough and elevates his hips to aid Bucky as the latter pulls them off his legs, opening his mouth to drop them on the bed and turning to look at Steve in all his naked glory. 

Bucky could come right then and there if he wasn't saving himself for Steve's ass.

“Oh look at you, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbles, dropping down inch by inch like a predator on the prowl, before he is nearly face to face with Steve’s cock. While it is not the largest one he’s ever seen, it is by far the most beautiful. He does everything in his power to keep himself pulling it into his mouth and sucking the soul out of the delicious man. He has never wanted someone as much as he wants Steve in this moment, and he never wants to yearn over someone else at this intensity ever again. Steve is his endgame now.  _ What have you done to me, you beautiful human being? _ “Spread yer legs, baby. Let me see you.”

Steve whimpers and does as he is told, lifting up his legs so that his feet are planted on the mattress and his legs are slipped shut. Bucky waits what feels like an eternity for Steve to expose himself, but once Steve’s legs begin to open, his mouth waters at the sight. The omega’s hole is absolutely leaking with slick, the physical signs of his heat showing at full force and don’t appear to be stopping any time soon. Bucky blows cool air gently on Steve’s wet hole, watching with dark eyes as it puckers wonderfully and how it causes Steve to shiver.

Leaning forward, filled with nervousness and strain, he moves as close to Steve as possible, his mouth hovering over paradise. He starts off with a small taste, licking around the excess to clean Steve up, before he delves closer to the centre. Bucky moans the second Steve’s slick hits his tongue, and the animal inside of him breaks out of its cage. He eats Steve out like his very life depends on it, sucking and mouthing at the tasteful splendor of the other man, living for the way Steve’s hands dig into his scalp and pull on the strands of hair; absolutely loving the way Steve cries out, nearly screaming from the overabundant waves of pleasure. And when he adds in his finger to the mix… oh god, he cannot even begin to explain how spectacular it feels when he slips it into Steve’s tight heat.

“Fuck, you feel amazing Steve,” Bucky growls heatedly, gazing up to see Steve's fucked-out expression and smirking at the sight. Bucky eases his finger out of Steve before thrusting it forward, curling his finger once he is fully sheathed again. Steve groans in return, trying to push his ass down against Bucky’s finger; Bucky simply chuckles and uses his other hand to keep Steve still. He does not want Steve doing any bit of work this morning, or ever for that fact. He wants to serve Steve, give him pleasure on a goddamn silver platter, because just seeing this beautiful mess he has created is enough to fulfill him for the rest of his life.

“A-ain’t you a lil’ overdressed there, alpha?” Steve whispers over a moan, trying to get Bucky’s attention. After a few more pumps of his hand, Bucky pulls away from Steve’s hole, watching with a self-approving smile when Steve’s fingers travel across the hem of his shirt. He helps Steve do away with the buttons as quickly as possible, wanting to cover Steve in every inch of skin he has as soon as possible. The shirt opens up easily, leaving Steve to brush his fingers across the curves and grooves of muscle silently. Bucky lives out each day hauling rope and raising sails with his crew, tolling every hour until the job is finished thoroughly, so yes, he does have quite a bit of evidence of his routine.

Steve’s fingers trace over every outline of Bucky’s abdomen, whimpering and muttering words Bucky cannot understand but they fill him with hunger all the same. It takes him only a few short moments to rip his shirt off, tossing the bundled fabric as far as possible before he reaches for his trousers. He fumbles with the clasps, both of them chuckling as he fails on several accounts. Once he finally gets his pants to cooperate however, he stops when he sees a glint of metal, his body tensing instantly.

Steve still has no clue about his leg.

In his defense, it is not like Bucky had an opportunity to bring the subject up organically.  _ ‘Hey Steve, I’m missing a leg and my new one is made of some strange metal and I have no clue how it actually works.’ _ Really? That fact alone might have scared the poor man off completely, and that is by far the  _ last _ thing that he has ever wanted to do. Yet he never thought that the first time Steve would become aware of his…  _ whatever _ he might call it, would be the first time they had sex.

“Steve, I…” Bucky hesitates, staring down at both his hardened cock and the metal, painful reminder of his idiotic past. Steve deserves better than this life, than this body that Bucky will present before him; maybe Bucky is being selfish for wanting Steve for himself, but the thought of letting Steve go again… he would rather witness rejection of his appearance in Steve’s eyes than lose him once more.

Steve sits up after a few silent seconds, coming face to face with Bucky’s abs and pressing a featherlight kiss upon the skin. He shivers slightly in response, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a shuddering breath. “Buck, we… we don’t gotta do anything, okay? It’s alright. If it’s because you don’t think yer, uh,  _ well-equipped _ , I just want you to know that… that doesn’t matter to me, yeah? I’m not tryin’ to pressure or nothin’, but I want you to understand that… yer perfect exactly as ya are. Okay?”

Hearing Steve’s words wash away his worries, and he opens his eyes with a new wave of hope. Steve is looking up at him as if he created heaven and earth, those beautiful eyes that he loves so much staring up at him with an unmeasurable amount of adoration. As if Steve already completely accepts him and every flaw that scars his being. He has no idea what he did to deserve this kind of love, but he will spend every last breathing moment treasuring it with his life. Leaning down to press a lasting kiss on Steve’s lips, Bucky crawls off the foot of the bed and stands, watching as Steve moves to sit on his knees and heels, waiting patiently.

Shutting his eyes and taking in a deep breath to prepare himself, Bucky gathers both his pant waistband and that of his undergarments and slowly pulls them down. He hears a faint whimper comes from Steve as his cock becomes known, and he smirks a bit; he is very ‘well-equipped’ down there, that has never been a worry of his. His hands continue pulling downwards however, understanding that once he goes past his mid-thigh, he will not be able to look back.

It scares him a little, not knowing exactly how Steve might react to the sight of this silver monstrosity. The fact that he is unprepared for rejection is what worries him too, because Bucky still does not know how  _ he _ will react once Steve comes to his senses and realizes that Bucky is not worth his care and devotion. A small gasp makes its way to his ears, and he catches on to the fact that, while in his little anxiety-based dilemma, his hands have continued to tug on the material of his clothing. With a heartbroken sigh, Bucky pulls his clothes as far down his legs as possible, before stepping out of them and kicking them off to the side.

His hands are shaking slightly at his sides, Bucky’s eyes opening to look upon Steve’s upcoming disapproval. But what he finds instead surprises him; Steve has  _ tears _ in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering and his hands wringing in his lap. The reaction only leaves him confused, not quite sure if this is Steve’s way of telling him that his leg is absolutely disgusting and a sorry sight to look at. Unsure of what to do, he calls out Steve’s name quietly, the blond’s eyes traveling up his body in a generous amount of time, before finally settling on Bucky’s stare.

“Does your leg hurt?” Steve asks, his voice thick with emotion and worry. His eyes are pooling with tears, Steve’s breathing beginning to pick up as his body begins to shake slightly. “Bucky, does the metal hurt you?” He asks again with more heat, Bucky’s silence clearly unnerving him.

“No, no baby no,” Bucky quickly reassures, coming back to himself to see the panic on Steve’s face. He steps towards the end of the bed again, standing right before Steve as he gently cups his omega’s face, his thumbs slowly caressing the smooth skin of his cheeks. “I promise Stevie, it don’t hurt one bit.”

Steve lets out a broken sigh at this, nodding his head in Bucky’s hands as his eyes slip down to look back at Bucky’s leg. The blond is quiet for the longest time, and Bucky isn’t sure what to think. Steve seems to be surprised for the most part, and he has every right to be; it’s not everyday that you see someone with a metal appendage, the sight can be a bit… unreal, to say the least.

“Can I… can I touch your leg?” Steve questions, staring back up at Bucky with curiosity and wonder in his eyes. Bucky raises his eyebrows suddenly in astonishment, not exactly expecting Steve to ask such a question. Letting out a small chuckle as he nods, Bucky carefully lifts his left leg until his foot is resting on the mattress beside Steve, subtly caging in the other man with his current position. He takes in a short gasp when Steve’s fingers tentatively touch the conjoined plates of metal, which goes unnoticed by Steve as the latter traces the pads of his fingers over the lines and curves of his leg. Bucky observes the expression on Steve’s face, realizing that it is not rejection that Steve feels, but fascination instead.

It is the same look he has seen each and every time Steve has paper and a piece of charcoal in his hands. Bucky’s leg is not a monstrosity in Steve’s eyes, but rather a work of art. And that is why Steve’s next question does not surprise him in the slightest.

“Maybe not now, since I’m–  _ we _ – are sort of in the middle of something, could I… would it be alright if I draw you, like this? I’d understand if you don’t want me to but I–”

“I would love that, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers reassuringly, a smile gracing his lips as he looks down at Steve with adoration. Steve may not realize it, but not once did he call Bucky’s leg an  _ ‘it’ _ ; rather he called it  _ ‘his leg’ _ , as if the metal does not phase him to see the difference; as if he completely accepts the upgraded appendage as a part of Bucky. That alone makes him want to cry in relief.

Steve’s lips form a small grin as he looks back up at Bucky, before he slowly moves to sit up on his knees, becoming nearly eye-level with the alpha. Bucky’s hands instinctively wrap themselves loosely around Steve’s lower back and ass, pulling him a little closer as his lips gingerly graze the blond’s. Steve moves his hands to hold onto Bucky’s face, angling his head to deepen the kiss.

“Bucky I–”

“I know kitten, fuck, I know.” Bucky growls deeply, tightening the hold he has on Steve as he uses the position of his left leg to ease them both back on the bed. He angles his hips and begins to roll his member across Steve’s, kissing and mouthing his way down the omega’s neck when the latter lets out a sharp gasp. Sucking on the skin of Steve’s collarbone, Bucky’s hands make their way south, dancing along that sweet spot of serenity and carefully pushes in two of his fingers. Steve lets out a moan at the sensation of his actions, and Bucky can feel just how desperate the man is.

He takes his time preparing Steve, wanting to make sure that he will not accidentally hurt him when the time comes to knot him. It takes a few minutes to be positive, but by the time he can nearly fit  _ four fingers _ into Steve’s wet heat, the omega is barely able to keep himself still any longer and urges for Bucky to  _ ‘get on with it’ _ . Slipping his hand away from what he now knows to be his heaven, Bucky lifts his hips ever so slightly and takes his cock in hand, preparing himself to enter.

“Stevie if I… if I hurt you, or I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you gotta tell me immediately. I don’t want to fuck this up, Steve. You understand?” Bucky waits for Steve’s response, frowning when he only gets a nod in return. “Words, baby.” Steve nods again, this time answering Bucky’s question and whining for added effect. “Yes I understand.”

“Good,” Bucky whispers and leans in, capturing the sweet taste of Steve’s lips as he angles his pelvis and begins to push. He barely gets past the loosened ring of muscle before they both let out a moan, their lips brushing over each other’s but not quite kissing as they both bask in the feeling. It has been a long time since Bucky has done something like this, that he has nearly forgotten what it felt like to enter another being. But he knows for damned sure that he has  _ never _ felt pleasure like this before, never in all the omegas he’s fucked over his lifetime. Steve is different, as if that weren’t made clear enough already, but it’s… it’s  _ more than just being different. _

Steve is unlike anyone he has ever had the pleasure of meeting, omega or not. Steve makes him feel things he has never truly felt before. Joy… Compassion… Tenderness. He does not understand why or how Steve has acquired this capability over him. Every time he catches Steve’s glance, or sees him smile that beautiful smile of his, Bucky’s day gets a little bit brighter. Every time he comes back to his cabin from a hard day of work, tired, worn out, and drained, all it takes is for Steve to put on a record and sway along with the tune, and it sparks life back into Bucky. And every single time he hears Steve laugh… he cannot help the smile that stretches across his face at the sound. He isn’t sure if he can properly describe it, this strange but glorious feeling that has buried itself deep within his soul, and it scares him a little that he cannot identify it.

“Fuck, Jesus Stevie,” Bucky pants, barely adjusting to the feeling of Steve’s heat when the latter clenches around him. Despite taking his time to prepare Steve for his sizable length, it seems to have made no difference; Steve is tight, unbelievably so. Not that Bucky is complaining, no that is not it at all; he feels as if he were in heaven. But Steve is just so  _ tight _ , and it feels so damn good that he isn’t sure if he even deserves pleasure such as this.

“More,” Steve pants, eyes squeezed shut and head digging back into the pillows. Bucky opens his eyes, heavy-lidded from arousal, to look down upon his precious omega. Steve’s lips are parted, and Bucky simply cannot help himself from leaning down to nip on the blond’s bottom lip. “Bucky more, please. More.”

He is barely halfway sheathed when Steve starts his begging, and he worries that Steve is too tight to take the rest of his cock. Carefully, with slow and steady movements, Bucky pushes in another inch, keeping his eyes glued to Steve’s expressions as he moves. He gives Steve the chance to adjust before the omega whines for more, rotating his hips to gain Bucky’s attention. “Steve, are you sure? It’s a lot ‘ta take an’ I–”

“All of it,” Steve cries out, his fingers tightening around the brown locks of Bucky’s hair. “I can take it, Bucky I can. I can take it, please.” Bucky lets out a breath and nods, kissing a trail from Steve’s lips to his neck and tucks his face in the crook, as he begins to push in the rest of the way. Steve immediately lets out a long string of moans, gasping and choking on air as Bucky fills him up. And Bucky isn’t doing much better; he is trying his best to keep himself from knotting Steve right now, the waves of pleasure overwhelming him completely. His jaw is clenched and his grip on the omega’s hips is almost bone-breaking, but Steve does not complain at all.

Once fully settled inside of Steve, the only thing that can be heard in the room is their synchronized panting, the both of them so submerged in each other that any other concern is nonexistent. The ship could be under attack and Bucky would not even care. Years of conditioning, training, torture, and hardship from Hydra, are all washed away in this moment with Steve, and usually that sort of thing would worry Bucky immensely. Now Steve is his only concern, his only priority,  _ nothing else matters but Steve. _

He wants to speak, tell Steve how he truly feels and how much he worships the ground he walks upon, but the words get caught in his throat when Steve limply tugs on his hair. Following the motion, he moves his head upwards and reconnects their lips, their kisses slow and tender at first. The second Steve moans against his mouth, Bucky’s passion lights on fire. He devours Steve’s lips, the latter doing the same in moments. Bucky can hardly contain himself as he nips and bites at those plush cushions of glory, tilting his head to delve deeper. Steve kisses back heatedly, his hands framing Bucky’s face as he pulls him closer. Bucky takes it as a sign, and pulls out the slightest bit before pushing back in; he gets the reaction he had hoped for, Steve’s fingers gripping his hair even tighter and his hips moving alongside the alpha’s in perfect harmony.

“Oh god,” Steve mumbles, holding on tighter to Bucky’s shoulders and hair.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

Steve simply whines in affirmation, and moves to wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist, linking his ankles behind Bucky’s back. The newfound position makes him growl possessively and he pulls out a bit further than the previous thrust, and drills himself back into Steve. The omega nearly screams, his body arching into Bucky’s as he clenches around his aching member. “Yeah baby, you like it like this, don’tcha? Lying here like the goddamned angel you are and gettin’ fucked just how you want, hmm?”

“Bucky, fuck I–” Bucky cuts Steve off with a particularly hard thrust, smirking as he moves to sit up, staring down at the gorgeous result of his actions. Keeping a firm hold on Steve, he sets a steady pace and continues his thrusts, watching with dark eyes as Steve’s hands nearly tear his sheets; as Steve’s head digs back into the pillow again, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted as he whispers words that drive Bucky mad with desire.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this for awhile now, Doll?” Bucky questions roughly, not waiting for Steve to respond as he continues. “Thinkin’ about how it’d feel for me to fuck you, hard and demanding–” He thrusts in deep to prove his point. “–or nice an’ soft?” Bucky slows his movements, his thrusts gentle and careful, barely even there but enough for Steve to nod and whimper at the sensation.

Trailing his hand down Steve’s thigh, Bucky uses one hand to prop himself over Steve once more as his other hand wraps itself around the omega’s cock. As expected, Steve cries out and tries his best to thrust himself into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky cannot help but smile genuinely at his actions. They stay there for awhile, mouths against each other’s in perfect synchronization as Bucky times his thrusts along with every pump of Steve’s cock. It’s perfection, that is what this moment truly is. Steve fits him perfectly; attitude, personality, spark. Not to mention that his body was practically made to fit so well in Bucky’s hands, it’s nearly astounding.

He does not ever want to let Steve go.

“God Stevie, you feel…  _ fuck _ , I’ve been waitin’ for so long to do this with ya,” Bucky reveals, resting his forehead upon Steve’s. “Yeah?” Steve questions, short of breath. Bucky nods, letting out a short laugh as he continues, “Yeah baby, almost took you the other night too. You know what night I’m talking about, don’t ya sweetheart?”

Steve freezes momentarily, his eyes going wide as his lips part. “Oh fuck, you didn’t hear–”

“ _ ‘Oh Bucky, fuck, Bucky please, alpha, harder Bucky harder’ _ ,” Bucky recites with a smirk, laying a kiss along Steve’s jaw between every phrase as he thrusts in deeper. Not in an effort to brag, but Bucky is practically a master at keeping quiet when necessary, and hearing the way Steve said his name when he thought no one was listening, late at night and tucked under his covers, yes, it was necessary to keep his mouth shut. “I swear, it was like you were yellin’ at me to fuck you into the floor, Steve.”

“Well… why didn’t you?”

“I…”  _ I wouldn’t know how to handle myself if you didn’t want me in the same way I want you. I think I’m fallin’ in love with you, and not knowing if you are as well… god, I’m losing my mind over you, Steve. _ “I didn’t want to scare ya off.” Which is also incredibly true; losing Steve, as he has said countless times before, is the last thing he wants.

Steve’s expression softens, and he brings his hands to cup Bucky’s face, his thumbs brushing across the alpha’s cheeks as he pulls him down once more. “I’m here now, Buck. And I don’t plan on leaving for anything.” With a final breath, Steve tugs sharply and Bucky obediently follows, licking his way into the omega’s mouth as he picks up his pace again.

Bucky does not know how long they stay like this, kissing and touching each other in ways Bucky himself has not in awhile with an omega. It is foreign almost, this feeling of legitimately being wanted, desired, or at the very least  _ needed _ by another person. Sure, Bucky does have duties and responsibilities in regards to his crew; majority of them are alive because of his quick thinking and nearly unparalleled skills. But Pierce could easily find a replacement for Bucky if needed, and his crew wouldn’t so much as bat an eye at the change in command.

But with Steve… it’s different because Steve needs him. Or more accurately,  _ he _ is the one who needs Steve. He has changed so much within these past two months, and that change has been for the better. He does not want there to ever be a time where Steve is not a part of his daily routine, and even if that means parting from this ship, this crew, which is practically the only thing he really knows, well… it’s on the table.

“Fuck Stevie, god sweetheart… I want you to come for me, baby,” Bucky grunts, his thrusts becoming harder and faster with every passing second, his knot beginning to catch on the rim of Steve’s hole. He is having the hardest time keeping himself from knotting Steve to early, but the noises Steve is making are enough to almost send him over the edge. The sight beneath him is exquisite; the way Steve clutches the sheets in his fists is hard enough to break bone, but so delicate and poise all the same. His back arches from the mattress whenever Bucky thrusts in particularly hard, letting out a loud cry as he does. But upon hearing Bucky’s command, he lets out a confused  _ ‘huh?’ _ before spiraling down into a mess of moans, his hands wrapping around Bucky’s shoulders and his fingers trailing through his hair.

Opening his eyes with his own confusion, Bucky slows his thrusts enough to gain Steve’s attention. “I want you to come, Stevie. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“I’ve never– I, what?” Steve opens his eyes now, his gaze full of bliss and desire, but tinged with anticipation and curiosity. “But it’s against the… I’m not allowed.”

Bucky feels as if he has been slapped in the face, his thrusts stopping altogether as he looks down upon his precious omega. Steve, in return, looks down at where their bodies are joined and wiggles his ass in an effort to get Bucky to move once more. His hands firmly grasp Steve’s hips, stopping the blond’s tantalizing motions and catching his stare when the latter looks up with an upset whimper.

“Bucky c’mon–”

“What do you mean you’re not allowed, Steve?”

Steve looks up at him with a frown, his lips curling in the most adorable way. “I’m… not allowed? What part of that aren’t you getting, Buck?”

“I just– I don’t– that doesn’t make sense, Steve. What makes you think that you ain’t allowed to come?” Bucky holds himself up on one arm and uses his other hand to brush aside a few strands of golden hair than have fallen over Steve’s face, tucking them behind his ear before brushing his thumb along the side of his cheek, trailing over his chin to tip his face upwards a tad. “Steve?”

“T-that’s the rules… I can’t come during sex, it’s disrespectful for an omega to–”

“Who the  _ fuck _ – don’t tell me you believe in that stupid alpha propaganda bullshit?” Bucky nearly yells, fury bubbling underneath his skin. His tone makes Steve flinch, and he reminds himself to keep calm, especially during this time. Steve is so undeniably sensitive, as any omega would be in heat, so Bucky must pay more attention than ever to what he says and how exactly he says it. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to shout,” Leaning down to press a soft kiss on Steve’s nose, Bucky takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’m sorry, I just– tell me you don’t really follow that, Stevie.”

Steve whines from deep in his throat, his lips parting to speak but no words come out. Bucky clicks his tongue in sorrow, using his hand to gently turn Steve’s head back forward again. “Steve, look at me. It’s a bunch of nonsense that disrespectful alphas put on their omegas, I would never, ever do that to you. You gotta know that there aren’t any rules like that, honey; at all ”

“There… there aren’t?” Steve asks, his voice wet and soaked with emotion as tears begin to pool in his eyes. “But they all said… they said that it wasn’t right for an omega to come when gettin’ fucked… everyone says that it’s wrong and that it’s disgusting and–”

“Oh god, sweetheart  _ no _ . No no, baby look at me. Please, honey look at me,” Bucky begins to panic as he stares down helplessly as tears run down Steve’s face, desperately trying to console the distressed man and heal his aching heart. He is not sure what past lover must have told Steve this nonsense (some asshole, that’s for sure), but will be damned if he even lets Steve think that an orgasm is ‘against the rules’. “Steve you  _ are _ allowed to come; you are baby, you are. I want you to–”

“No I’m not!” Steve sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’ll just leave me too, and I can’t– I can’t fucking lose you. Please just–” Bucky cuts him off with a sharp kiss, his lips furiously fighting Steve’s pliant ones. Steve moans brokenly against his mouth, bringing his hands up to loosely hold the sides of Bucky’s face as they kiss.

Bucky pulls away after a few moments, a dark and determined look in his eyes as he begins to ease his cock out of Steve’s hole. “Trust me sweetheart, I ain’t leaving you for anything in the world,” He mutters as he drags his lips across Steve’s jaw and down his neck, lapping at his collar bones before giving them a small nip, Steve’s hand tightening in his hair just slightly. “Leaving is the  _ last _ thing I’ve got in mind. No, here’s what we’re gonna do, Stevie. You’re gonna come–”

“But–”

“ _ You’re gonna come _ ,” Bucky reiterates firmly, lips trailing down Steve’s chest at an agonizingly slow pace. “I’m gonna do all that I can to make you come, doll. And once you do, you get my knot in your pretty little ass.”

“But–”

“It’s my rule, Stevie,” At this, Steve shuts his mouth and lies patiently across the sheets as Bucky kisses his way down Steve’s stomach, his words hitting him with hot breaths that leave him shivering with lust. “You want my knot, I have to make you come first before you can have it. I don’t care how long it takes, I want to make you feel good. I  _ need _ to make you feel good, Steve I just– I want you to be satisfied and taken care of. Do you understand?”  _ For as long as I have him, Steve is mine to hold and mine to bring pleasure to. If anyone tries to tell me differently… they don’t know who they’re messing with. He’s fucking  _ **_mine_ ** _. _

It takes awhile for Steve to respond to his form of a ‘rule’, Bucky kissing the protrusion of his hipbones as he awaits an answer. It’s a difficult ultimatum to overcome, which Bucky understands. But what he simply cannot comprehend is that some alphas out there think that omegas are not allowed to come during sex. Hell, Bucky would feel severely disappointed in  _ himself _ if he cannot make Steve come.

“I… I understand,” Steve mumbles finally, pulling a grin across Bucky’s lips. “Good,” Bucky responds quietly, before flattening his tongue against Steve’s hole and licking aggressively. As he expected, Steve lets out a shout and arches his back, his hands desperately trying to cling tightly to the sheets as he struggles to breathe.

_ “Fuck!” _ Steve pants above him, taking gasping breaths as he begins to suck at the perfection of Steve’s hole. It is delectable on his tongue, sweet and honeyed and driving him mad with hunger. The more he licks up, the more slick leaks from Steve, and he isn’t complaining one single bit.

Thing is, he has been waiting for this moment since he first heard Steve sass his High Captain. Just the spunk and determination in his voice alone that fateful night made Bucky want to ruin him. Hold him tight and close, fuck him hard enough to make him scream so that half of Europe would hear that little Steve Rogers is being worshipped the way he deserves. He’s waited over two months to bruise Steve’s lips with his own, and while that may not seem like a very extended period of time, for him, it was an eternity. He has been waiting for so long just to see how beautiful Steve would look wrapped around his cock, moaning Bucky’s name until it was the only thing he could remember. And now that Bucky  _ has _ this ability, this power to make Steve come undone with his words and his touch, it fills him with unspeakable joy and happiness.

He spends nearly half an hour sucking at Steve’s rim, slipping his tongue and fingers inside just to hear the way Steve gasps wonderfully at the intrusion. It is music to his ears, edging him on with every whimper exhaled from Steve’s lips. Steve’s hands are in his hair, holding on for some grasp of reality as he chokes on moans. Bucky’s mouth and chin are coated in slick and spit, and he simply loves how it feels on his skin. This feeling of overpowering and redemption that he gains with each lick to Steve’s hole and stripe up the blond’s cock, it makes him feel like he has finally done something right with his life.

“Bucky,” Steve fusses, trying his best to lazily tug at his hair. It makes him growl in appreciation, kissing a trail away from Steve’s entrance and up towards his pelvis, lapping languidly at Steve’s hipbones before resting his head there to look upon his masterpiece: pre-cum pooling around the head of Steve’s cock and dripping down onto his stomach; Steve’s hair sticking up wildly, sweat dripping down the omega’s temple; Steve’s body shaking from such vast amounts of pleasure. Bucky’s breath catches at the sight, but in the best way possible. “Bucky c’mere, please.”

Bucky goes happily, using the back of his hand to wipe away the mess on his face before covering Steve’s lips with his own, his body blanketing Steve’s beautifully. Tucking his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, Bucky mouths at the salty-sweet skin as his right hand wraps around his omega’s cock, giving it a slow tug that sends Steve into a frenzy, the blond panting and writhing under his touch.

“Bucky, I…”

“You gettin’ close, Stevie?” Bucky asks, his voice husky and worn out. Steve in turn nods his head, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he does so. Bucky smirks, leaning forward to bite at Steve’s earlobe, doing his best to avoid the temptation of sinking his teeth into Steve’s neck, right over his scent gland and marking him as his. It’s strong and demanding, every instinct telling him to lay claim over Steve before another alpha has the opportunity to come along and whisk him away. What he wants is selfish, he understands that; he knows that Steve deserves every possible thing available to them in this world, and while he will try his best to be that for Steve, he knows that it will never be enough.

But he has hope. And he’ll treat Steve like goddamn royalty for as long as he has him here.

“I’m scared, Buck. I can’t– I’ve never, I don’t know if I can…” Steve’s breathing picks up, his hands nervously grasping at Bucky’s biceps. Bucky pulls away to look upon the panic ridden along the lines of Steve’s face, the furrowed brows and quivering lips tugging at his heartstrings. Bucky brings his hand up from the blond’s cock to cup the side of Steve’s face, his cheek soft and delicate and so damn perfect. Pressing a kiss to his opposite cheek, he whispers words of encouragement in a loving tone, “Hey, Stevie I’m right here, okay? I’m right here sweetheart, you can do it baby.”

Keeping his lips over Steve’s jaw, Bucky removes his hand and trails it back down, grasping both his own and Steve’s cock in hand, the sensation pulling a low grunt from the alpha as he begins to tug. Steve gasps, his back arching and head thrown back in pleasure, his hands pulling tightly at Bucky’s hair. It only spurs him on, his movements becoming quick and sloppy, quite a poor excuse of a handjob but it brings out the most splendid sounds from Steve’s mouth.

It’s not much longer before Steve cries out, his body shaking from overstimulation and arousal, and he comes hotly in Bucky’s hand. Bucky mutters out words of praise, kissing all across his face and down his neck, before stopping to look upon his work. Steve’s entire stomach is coated in lines of cum, the stunning white sea covering his skin like snow. Steve is breathing heavily beneath him, chest heaving from exertion and exhaustion, and he looks like the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever laid eyes on. Steve sobs into his neck, thanking him repeatedly with a rough voice. Bucky should be the one thanking  _ him _ ; this is a privilege of the highest honour, and having the ability to perform under these circumstances… god, he just feels so fucking  _ blessed _ .

He does not hesitate to capture those plump set of lips that drive him mad, and fulfill on his part of their promise, angling his hips and slowly, inch by thick inch, he pushes himself back inside of Steve’s precious tight heat. Bucky lets out a hum once he is fully enclosed, setting a rapid pace almost immediately. His head is in the clouds, so incredibly overwhelmed with desire that he can hardly think straight. All he knows is Steve, and that’s all he ever wants to know for the rest of his life.

“Bucky please, I need– fuck, alpha knot me! Please Bucky, I need you!” Steve begs of him, his fingers tightening in his brown hair. It takes only a few more thrusts before Bucky’s knot pushes past the ring of muscle, fitting snugly in Steve’s heat as if it was always meant to be there. He narrowly crushes Steve when he falls forward, his arms hardly holding up his weight as he comes hotly into Steve. Waves of pleasure roll through Bucky’s body as he rides out his climax, feeling as if he is drowning in the best way possible. It has never felt  _ this _ good,  _ ever. _ Every part of him, his mind, soul, and body, fully understands that Steve is far different than any omega he has ever been with before, and Bucky will do everything possible to make Steve feel as loved as he deserves.

Bucky presses soft kisses to Steve’s cheeks, murmuring words of praise and adoration to the other man as he ever so gently maneuvers their bodies so that Steve is lying atop his chest. The omega whines quietly when the movement causes Bucky’s knot to pull slightly, but with Bucky’s loving words to calm him down and ease him into a content state, Steve, his precious sweetheart, falls asleep in his arms in minutes.

Bucky, however, stays awake for a little while longer, running his hand up and down Steve’s back as he memorizes the pattern of his breathing. The way Steve’s fingers occasionally twitch as he sleeps, or how he tucks his head deeper into Bucky’s neck as if he fears the alpha will leave him. Pressing one last kiss to Steve’s temple, Bucky reaches down to pull the sheets over their bodies, the smile on his lips never leaving, even after he is fast asleep.

_ For all that I have and all that I am, I am never leaving you, Steve Rogers. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you liked this, be sure to leave a comments/kudos, because it is the support that encourages me to keep writing!! :)
> 
> Come party with me on [Tumblr!](https://jaybird6232.tumblr.com)


	9. I'm Falling In Love With You: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not to ruin the happy moment but… what actually happened to your leg?” Bucky’s face drops slightly and Steve hates himself instantly. “I’m sorry I ruined this, you don’t have to answer I’ll think of something else–”
> 
> Bucky waves him off, the motion silencing him. His heart is racing for all the wrong reasons; he’s afraid that Bucky might tell him off or yell at him for being insensitive. But what the alpha does surprises him; instead of expressing any sort of malice, he meets Steve’s eyes and smiles the tiniest of smiles imaginable. “It’s time you knew, Stevie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, everyone!! I'm alive, and I'm here to present another chapter of this story for you all. I hope to be more consistent with my updates, since I'm currently free from prison (school) and have a much more relaxed schedule. My goal is to have this entire story wrapped up before my summer break ends, and given that this story will be about twenty-or-so chapters, I'll be writing non-stop. Hopefully. I get easily distracted.
> 
> Anyways, I'll stop chatting now and let you all get to reading. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S.: There be a surprise down at the end of the chapter ;)

Bucky awakens several hours later to a soft, gentle noise emanating from behind him. Lying on his right side, his hand snuggly resting under his pillow and his left arm loosely gripping the blankets, he stays still and silent; observing with his ears as his eyes slowly open. He takes a quick look at his immediate surroundings; the door to his cabin at the far wall, the night table right beside him, and the cold wooden walls straight ahead. Exactly where he was when he went to sleep after disconnecting from Steve. Good. He takes the time to listen in to the noise, and it does not take long to realize that the noise is a muffled sob, one so quiet and subtle that Bucky cannot believe woke him up. He can hardly even notice it even being awake.

But that is odd, there is no one in the room besides him… and _Steve_. Steve, his precious little omega, who is in heat. With calculated, precise movements, Bucky eases himself over to his left shoulder to look at the blond haired angel and to find the source of the sound. But upon dropping his eyes on Steve, his mind shuts down and he cannot _help_ but stare.

Steve is the one who is making those pained, whimpering sounds, his eyes shut tightly closed but still leaking profusely with tears. His left hand is fisting the sheets as his right pumps over his cock, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated, but mesmerizing all the same. Streaks of cum already paint his chest, layers of a white sea leaving Bucky’s mouth watering for a taste. Yet the fact that he is crying, it snaps Bucky out of his trance in an instant.

“ _Stevie_ ,” Bucky mutters, moving to brace himself up on his left arm. The sound of his voice must set Steve off again, for he lets out a sharp moan before cumming across his abdomen. Bucky is trying his hardest to keep his attention focused on Steve, but he knows that within minutes his resolve will crumble away. He brushes away a few strands of Steve’s hair from the omega’s, his heart aching when Steve whines at the touch. “Oh god, Steve…”

“Bucky,” Steve whimpers, eyes squeezed even tighter shut. He does not seem to have realized that he has cum again, with his fist still pumping over his cock but only a tad slower in pace. “I’m sorry Buck, I’m sorry I’m sorry–”

“Stevie no–”

“You said I could cum and I just– it hurt real bad Buck, an’ I needed–” Bucky cuts him off with a soft kiss, lightly pressing his lips upon Steve’s. In return, Steve only lets out a small sound as he tries with all his might to kiss back. It’s a tired and hard effort, one that Bucky admires as he feels his heart swell up.

“Baby no, there ain’t no need to apologize. I’m right here Steve, I’m here. I can make it better sweetheart, will ya let me do that?” He made a promise to Steve on the docks he left him on; that he would always, _always_ , ask for consent and approval before he made any type of move. That rule will forever be in effect.

“Yes, please. I’m sorry I know this is–” Again, Bucky kisses away his apology, whispering to Steve that there is no need to be sorry. _He wants to help._ In a split second, he throws himself over Steve, inching his way down the omega’s body as the latter lets out another string of whines. “I’ll take good care of you Stevie, I promise.” Bucky scoots even farther down the mattress, settling his body comfortably between Steve’s legs as he takes in the delicious sight; Steve, laid out before him in a heated state, his prick hard and angry and demanding to be relieved. His chest is a painted canvas of glory, and his mouth waters to clean up the mess. _Easy Barnes, one step at a time._

Bucky gathers Steve’s cum-covered cock in his right hand, using his left to rub soft, reassuring circles over the skin of the omega’s thigh. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the pleasure that awaits, closes his eyes, and wraps his lips around the head of Steve’s cock. _Holy fuck, why have I waited so long to do this?_ With one single taste, Bucky loses all control and dives in. He takes Steve’s cock fully into his mouth in one go, swallowing it down until his nose kisses the omega’s pelvis. He cannot help but let out a low growl as Steve’s hands make their way into his hair as the blond’s body arches dramatically, whines spilling loudly from Steve’s lips.

Steve chants Bucky’s name like a goddamned prayer, letting off strings of curses and cries with every pass of Bucky’s lips around his cock. He’s been wondering for the longest time how it would feel to have Steve’s cock gliding across his tongue, and now that he has Steve’s blessed member down his throat, Bucky never wants to take his mouth off.

Yet hardly a few minutes pass by, before Steve repeatedly yells for him to stop. Bucky, despite his instant-love for the taste of Steve’s cock, pulls off immediately, worry riding on the edges of his eyes. “What did I do wrong? Did I hurt ya? Something you didn’t like? I’m really sorry, Stevie–”

“You didn’t do anything, Buck. God, it feels amazin’. I’m just– I’m gonna cum soon and you probably don’t want that down your throat– Bucky no!” Steve’s pleas fall back into moans in an instant, as Bucky pumps his fist over him again with furious vigor. “I don’t want it anywhere else except my mouth, baby.” He wraps his lips around the head of Steve’s cock, suckling around the tip and lapping over the slit. It’s not even second later before Steve’s body tenses up and he lets out a choked cry, spilling into Bucky’s mouth like a tidal wave. It shocks him at first, but he hungrily accepts every drop with glee. This is, by far, the fastest blowjob he has ever given, but it pleases the both of them, so he doesn’t even mind.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, Bucky I’m sorry.” Steve throws his hands over his face in shame, sobbing violently. “Please don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry!” Bucky pulls his mouth off with a _‘pop’_ , using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.

“Steve, look at me honey,” Bucky crawls his way up Steve’s body, cradling the omega’s face gently in his hands. He isn’t sure what he has done, or possibly what he _didn’t_ do, to cause this type of reaction. Those beautiful blue eyes that he has fallen in love with are flooding profusely with tears, rivers forming across his supple cheeks. He feels tears forming in his own eyes; he’s helpless, unsure of how to comfort Steve in the slightest, and that terrifies him. “Stevie I– baby tell me what’s wrong, please? I don’t– I don’t know what to do–”

“It’s _me!_ ” Steve shouts loudly, sobs taking over his body now. “ _I’m what’s wrong. I’m the problem_.”

He is so confused right now? “Steve I don’t understand–”

Steve shakes his and sits up abruptly, the movement knocking Bucky back on the bed. He reaches out to grab for Steve’s arm, to tell him to wait, to explain what is happening, because he is utterly _confused_. The mood has shifted so quickly, it’s as if he and Steve are in different worlds. “You don’t get it! I’m over here causing problems, going into heat and becoming an _inconvenience_ for you! I’m nothing more than another goddamned obligation that you need to deal with! Worthless piece of fuckin’ shit–”

“Hey now stop,” Bucky orders, rising from the bed to walk over to Steve, who has at this point migrated towards the wall. Steve refuses to look at him, his tiny body shaking as his head stays buried in his hands, but that does not stop him from wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and holding him close. “You aren’t an inconvenience, Stevie.”

“Y-yes I am–”

“No Steve, you’re not,” Bucky states firmly, gently turning Steve around until the latter is facing him. While Steve still is not looking at him, the blond doesn’t recoil away from him, which Bucky finds to be a start. “You aren’t an inconvenience, and you aren’t causing any problems. And an obligation? A worthless piece of… Is that really how you see yourself?” When Steve nods, the action small and silent in itself, Bucky hears the sound of his own heart breaking; cracking and splintering into nothing but dust. Steve is an angel; a work of art; a sliver of heaven that is his to hold and keep safe. A piece of shit? _Never in a million years._

In a swift movement Steve is held up in his arms as he presses the smaller man up against the wall, a gasp leaving Steve’s lips in the process. “What’re you doin’?”

_“Honouring my privilege,”_ Bucky whispers quietly, just for Steve’s ears to hear, before he covers Steve’s lips with his own. The fact that Bucky can… can _hold_ Steve; touch him; love on him; care for him; protect him, and so much more… it is not an obligation. Not something brought upon him by force or demand. He is not obligated to keep him alive, to keep him nourished, clean, and safe; this is what he _wants_ to do. He _wants_ to be Steve’s saviour, and granted he is the reason for Steve’s capture, something he berates himself for on the daily, he hopes that one day Steve can truly forgive him. Until that day arrives and beyond, he will do everything humanly possible to show Steve just how much he matters to him.

Life begins to move in a blur. In one moment, Steve’s hands are buried in his hair as their kisses turn heated; Bucky’s hands roam over the inches of the omega’s striking canvas in a feverious manner while Steve’s whimpers fuel his every move. In the next, his mouth is pleasantly laying open-mouthed kisses along Steve’s neck as they lay strewn across the bed, Steve’s head nestled comfortably in the pillows as Bucky pounds into him relentlessly. The blunt tips of Steve’s nails make their way down Bucky’s back, growls emanating from the brunet that leave the omega moaning just from the sound.

When Steve finally does come, which may be minutes or hours later, Bucky is too far gone at this point to concern himself with the matters of time, it is as if the angels above have cried out a praise of glory. Steve clenches tightly around him, his hands grabbing on firmly to Bucky’s shoulders for a few seconds before relaxing, a dopey smile spreading across his lips as Bucky faithfully fills him up soon after.

Maneuvering them into a comfortable position, Bucky pulls Steve close to his chest, his nose buried deep into the omega’s hair as his hands hold tightly to Steve’s body, peaceful sleep overcoming them in a matter of minutes.

___________________________________________________________

 

It’s hours later when Bucky wakes up again, Steve curled up in his left side, murmuring peacefully in his sleep. Groggily opening his eyes, Bucky sucks in a deep breath with an elated sigh. It has been awhile since he has woken up in peace, feeling well-rested and satisfied, and Bucky knows for a fact that Steve has to be a defining factor. Ever since meeting Steve, he has slept better most nights. Feeling safe was never a luxury he was able to enjoy, yet with Steve’s presence in the room… he is always at ease.

Steve mutters something in his sleep and he shushes the blond quietly, not wanting him to wake up for he knows that the omega needs his rest. It only takes a few minutes however for Steve to say something again and move a little under the covers of the bed, snuggling closer to Bucky.

“Stevie? You awake?” The alpha whispers quietly, not wanting to fully wake the omega. Steve shifts again, his pelvis lined with perfectly Bucky’s hip, and Bucky feels his heart stop for a split-second as he understands what Steve has been saying in his sleep for these past few minutes.

_“Captain,”_

Bucky gulps, his right hand beginning to gather the bed sheet in a tight grip. With one word, his heart starts to beat faster; his face feels hot and he is _so incredibly turned on right now_. Sure, he is called Captain by his crew and by Pierce, but this is different. Far different. Because this is coming from Steve, and judging from the tone in his voice, Steve is not dreaming the ‘cleanest’ of dreams possible.

Steve lets out a small whimper, his hips making a small movement as his dick begins to press into Bucky’s side. _“Fuck Captain, harder.”_ This is absolute torture. He cannot move away in fear of waking Steve up nor does he particularly _want_ to move, yet he is trying with all his might to keep his hand away from his growing member underneath the sheets, because to touch himself in this moment would be wrong for several reasons.

Steve’s left hand, which has been lying dormant on his chest, clenches in a loose fist, one Bucky would find incredibly adorable if he was not utterly preoccupied with his current predicament. Steve cuddles closer to Bucky’s side, letting out a small moan as he does so. _“Bucky, ngh fuck.”_

_Goddamn it, Steve Rogers wake the fuck up._

“Steve…” Bucky mumbles, using the arm currently wrapped around Steve’s shoulders to give the omega a small shake. In return Steve only groans, the noise small and hardly noticeable, and shifts his hips to gently rub up against Bucky’s side. “Stevie, wake up. Yer killin’ me here.”

_“Captain please, harder.”_ Bucky lets out a huffed air of frustration, staring up at the ceiling in distress. He knows that it is dangerous to wake up a sleeping omega in heat, and he wants to let Steve sleep as much as possible, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take this. “Steven.” Finally, Steve groans loudly and gently shakes his head into Bucky’s side, shushing him quietly. Bucky repeats his name again, letting his fingers trace along Steve’s arm to allow the other man a comforting way to wake up.

Steve yawns, loosening his fist and splaying it across Bucky’s chest, before finally opening his eyes to look up at Bucky. “Why’d you stop?”

“You were dreamin’ Stevie, I wasn’t doin’ anything.” Bucky cracks a small smile when he feels Steve’s warm blush on his chest and hears Steve’s uncomfortable little giggle, the smaller man covering his face with his hands.

“So you heard…”

“Oh yeah sweetheart, I heard everythin’.” Steve mumbles _oh god_ under his breath, tucking his face deeper into Bucky’s side to try and avoid his embarrassment. Bucky can’t help but laugh loudly, pulling Steve close and placing a kiss on his temple. “You are too cute, Stevie. And just so you know, I will _gladly_ be your Captain anyday.” Within seconds he gets a pillow shoved in his face, Steve’s laugh filling the room.

“You are such a dick!” Steve giggles, climbing atop of Bucky and smacking him again with the pillow. Bucky looks up between hits, watching with loving eyes as Steve’s face lights up with joy; smiling as he watches strands of blond hair fall over Steve’s eyes. Bucky takes a few more smacks of the pillow before his hands trail up Steve’s sides, his fingers dancing across the omega’s stomach, causing the other man to fall over in a fit of laughter.

Bucky pulls Steve close with his left arm, his right hand moving forward to brush the hair out of the blond’s face. His thumb traces over Steve’s cheek, a small smile pulling across his own lips. _What wouldn’t I give to have this for the rest of my life?_ He must be silent for too long, for Steve raises his own hand to cup Bucky’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lip. “Buck? You okay?” He meets Steve’s eyes, those stunning blue orbs soft and loving, utterly full of emotion; just as beautiful as the first time they met each other’s gaze. “I’m fine, Stevie. Just lookin’ at how pretty you are.” _Beautiful. Dazzling. Mesmerizing. Pretty doesn’t even begin to cover it._

Steve frowns, wrinkling his nose and his eyebrows scrunch tightly, “Stop lying, Buck–”

“I like Captain better,”

“Fine, _Captain Jackass_ , stop lying.”

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes before he climbs atop Steve, his body hovering over the smaller man as he cages him in with his arms. Leaning down, he presses a small kiss on Steve’s cheeks, each one tender and smooth, quietly whispering, “I would never lie to my treasure.”

When he pulls away a few inches, he comes face to face with Steve’s awestruck expression; his lips parted in surprise, the corners tilting upwards slightly. “Your treasure?”

Bucky blushes, nodding in affirmation, “You have never been my prisoner here, Stevie. I’ve never seen you as a captive. You’re… more than that; you mean so much to me, and to think of you as anything less than valuable and worthy, I’d have be insane. So, yes, my treasure.” He’s blessed with Steve’s large grin. _Dear lord, how did I fall in love with you so deeply in such a short amount of time?_ “And you know what happens to my treasure?” Steve hums in question. “I have it all to myself. I don’t share Stevie, you’re all mine, for as long as I’ve got you.”

Steve raises his head upwards, connecting their lips and using his hand to pull Bucky back down, the alpha’s body coving the omega’s like a blanket. “Good. Because I ain’t sharin’ you either.”

___________________________________________________________

 

“So your mom died when you were nine?” Bucky asks him as he surveys his cards, the brunet sitting near the headboard of the bed, his lap covered by the sheets. He’s sitting opposite of the alpha, cross-legged on the bed in front of Bucky. Steve answers him with an affirmative hum as he pulls at his shirt, more accurately Bucky’s shirt, looking at the cards in his own hands.

This little game was Bucky’s suggestion, because while they have been around each other for months now, they hardly know anything about each other. Right after Bucky had called Steve his _‘treasure’_ , Steve couldn’t help but let his Captain have his way with him. His body is still pleasantly aching, his skin painted with bites and hickeys, as is Bucky’s, yet instead of going for another round, they both agreed to wait a bit and talk. Steve had been a little hesitant for this game at first; his personal life story is not one filled with… joyful pleasantries, and he does not want Bucky to see him in a different light afterwards. Not that he thinks Bucky would leave him, he simply does not want to deal with the pity he may face in the end.

“What happened after she died? If yer Pops wasn’t around to take care of ya, who did?” Bucky inquires, selecting a card from his hand and placing it on the pile in front of him, before he looks up at Steve again.

“Nat,” Bucky looks up at him, confused, so he elaborates. “Natasha. The Captain of _The Widow_. The only reason I’m still alive,” Steve mutters with a humourless chuckle, avoiding the gentle frown coming from Bucky. “Orphanages where I grew up did more harm than good, and Nat knew that from experience. She took me and Ro– me, she took me under her wing and provided for the both of us. We picked up the others along the way. Lost others too…” Steve doesn’t realize how cracked his voice has become with his last sentence, but Bucky does. He also realizes Steve’s attempts to hide a certain someone from his past, but the alpha does not voice it. “But hey,” Steve smiles, looking up at Bucky with a grin. “It’s part of life, no need to cry over it.”

Bucky seems to ponder this, if the adorable face he pulls is any indication, before he lets off a smile of his own. “Yeah, that’s life I guess. Your turn now, Stevie.”

Steve nods, his eyes scanning over his cards before settling on one with a smirk, plucking it from his selection and placing it on the bed. “Ha, gotcha,” Bucky groans and smothers his face with his hand. “So my turn huh, okay… Oh! This one has been on my mind for the longest time. What’s up with you not drinking alcohol? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, the stuff tastes like shit regardless, but still.”

Bucky laughs loudly before patting on the covers over his left leg, “It’s the reason behind this lovely contraption.”

“What does that–”

“One question per card, sweetheart,” Bucky playfully reminds him, sending him a small wink before grabbing a card and twirling it in his fingers. “So now, it’s my turn.”

_“Fine,”_ Steve wiggles in his spot as he waits patiently for Bucky to place his card down before he receives his question.

“If I hadn’t so, so _wonderfully_ captured you, where would you be right now?”

“America.” Steve answers immediately, before blushing at his rapid response. “A-America. Nat, me, the whole crew… we have an outpost there. A little spot on the coast of Massachusetts, right on the ocean. My friends and I all built up a small section of houses. I designed all of ‘em, and I’m proud to say that mine is the biggest. It’s a bitch to clean though.”

“Well damn, look at you, my little architect.” Bucky grins, but Steve frowns. “Ain’t no need to tease me, asshole.” Bucky’s smile immediately falls, “No no! I’m not teasin’ ya! Fuck I just– nevermind, continue please.”

Steve narrows his eyes but does as he’s told, “We snagged this great piece of land from a farmer that had too much on his hands, and we built up this little ‘round-about’ type thing with all our houses; we’ve even got a fountain in the middle! Anyways, we’ve got a huge barn and a garden a couple metres from Sam and Maria’s house, and we use the food we sell for profit at the market a few miles down the road. It doesn’t give us much, but we live comfortably.”

“It sounds like a dream,” Bucky mutters quietly mostly to himself, but it’s loud enough for Steve to hear. “Well, you’re more than welcome to come for awhile,” _Stay. Live with me. Don’t leave me._ “If you want that is.”

“Really?” Bucky’s face lights up, and Steve smirks, pulling out a card of his own and placing it on their pile, “One question per card, _Captain_.” Bucky narrows his eyes with a smirk, a filthy look in his eyes as he shuts his mouth.

“My turn again. If this wasn’t your life; ya know, robbin’ an’ thievin’ an’ shit, what would you be doing?”

“Uh… huh, I’ve never really thought about that,” Bucky scratches his head with his free hand, then looks up to Steve with a helpless chuckle. “Can we come back to that? I gotta think about it.”

“Yeah that’s fine, your turn again.”

“Okay, so,” Bucky places a card down before turning his full attention to Steve, his eyes hard and calculating. “Can you teach me how to draw? Not now obviously, but maybe sometime?”

“That–that’s your question?” Steve laughs, before shutting himself up when he sees that Bucky is not joking around. “Uh, yeah, sure Buck. I’ll teach you how to draw. I’d be happy to.” Bucky grins, all toothy and full of hope that it leaves Steve’s heart swelling with love.

_Love_. Steve is head-over-heels for this man, completely absorbed in his presence. Ever since he took a glance at those stunning eyes, he was hooked. Past the point of no return within seconds, and he would not trade it for the world. Of course, he misses his friends terribly, but Steve cannot imagine a life without Bucky in it now. His world is complete with Bucky in it; he has nearly forgotten what life was like before the alpha entered it.

“Thanks Stevie, it’d mean a lot to me. Okay now mister, your turn.”

“Not to ruin the happy moment but… what actually happened to your leg?” Bucky’s face drops slightly and Steve hates himself instantly. “I’m sorry I ruined this, you don’t have to answer I’ll think of something else–”

Bucky waves him off, the motion silencing him. His heart is racing for all the wrong reasons; he’s afraid that Bucky might tell him off or yell at him for being insensitive. But what the alpha does surprises him; instead of expressing any sort of malice, he meets Steve’s eyes and smiles the tiniest of smiles imaginable. “It’s time you knew, Stevie.” The room falls silent, apart from Bucky’s deep, nervous intake of breath, as he begins to recount his tale.

“The accident was about six years ago, in London of all places. It had been raining for days, and it didn’t look like it was going to get any better. Me an’ the guys went to this little pub right by the river, a quiet spot where we couldn’t be found by any authorities lookin’ for us at the time; Hydra, as you know, does not have the best reputation with the locals.” Bucky chuckles, before becoming serious again. “Except with, you know, the omegas willing to give their bodies away for the evenin’ to provide for their families at home.

“An’ I remember, there was this one omega that had been tailin’ us, followin’ us from bar to bar. I paid no mind to it, I didn’t want to touch any omegas that night. But my crew, they took notice. Took until we got to the little pub I mentioned before, for a few of my crewmates to confront ‘im, sweet talk ‘im like they do everyone. Bought ‘im drinks, danced with ‘im, made-out in the corners like the fuckin’ drunkards they were. And my god, they were so wrapped up in the little shit that none of ‘em realized he was some sort of undercover bastard.

“It didn’t take long for us to be ambushed, it all happened so fast, and we were all drunk off our asses that even if we saw it coming from a mile away, we would have never been prepared. Royal officers came from every direction imaginable, shootin’ and cuttin’ down my crew in minutes. Some of us got away, everyone else was either captured or dead before we could get to them.” Bucky pauses, swallowing a lump in his throat, and Steve realizes that he’s crying. Silent and nearly unnoticeable, and it makes Steve’s heart ache. Reaching forward, he lays his hand on Bucky’s wrist and gives him a reassuring squeeze, while he drops his cards and brings his other hand up to wipe away a tear falling down Bucky’s cheek.

“I-I hadn’t realized that I had gotten hit until the rest of my crew and I had made it a few blocks away from the pub to one of our safehouses. I passed out from blood loss, an’ every time I kept waking up, my crew was either yellin’ over my body as they tried to stop my bleedin’ or they were changin’ my bandages. When I finally gained consciousness and could, you know, stay awake without falling asleep the very next second, I took a look at the damage. It wasn’t pretty, Stevie. My right leg suffered from a few small cuts, nothing major. But this trooper here,” Bucky pats his left thigh over the covers. “This guy took all the heat.

“Nearly every bone in my leg was fucked, I don’t even know how I was able to make it to the safe house. Gashes lined my entire leg, musket balls buried deep in the muscle too. God, it was so bad. We stayed in that house for a good month while I recuperated. Took the longest time to get my leg to an ‘acceptable’ state. That’s when news of what happened got passed to Pierce.

“Fucker came in like a knight in shining armour, his crew pickin’ me up and takin’ me back to his main ship. Rest of my crew came back here, took care of things while I was gone. I’m not sure why they didn’t just leave me for dead, no point on wasting resources on me.”

“Hey now, stop–” Steve interjects, but Bucky continues regardless.

“He gave me the best medicine that I’ve ever seen, kept me clean, well-fed, and nourished in every way possible. An’ after a few weeks of that, he walks in one day, a few of his men behind him hauling in this giant fuckin’ box. Inside was this bad boy,” Bucky pushes the covers back a bit to knock on his leg, the metal creating a firm sound. “They gave me this bottle, told me to drink it, and whatever I drank knocked me out. When I woke up, this thing was on my leg and… yeah. Impossible to take off, and impossible to live without. Heroic story, huh?”

Steve does not respond, he’s too busy staring down at his lap with tears filling his eyes. He _knows_ that Bucky is sparing him from the bloody, horrific parts of this story, but from what he has told him… it rips him up inside. Knowing that Bucky went through all that pain, that torture, not knowing what was truly going on half the time? No one deserves to undergo a tragedy such as that. Steve wishes he could have known Bucky then. He could have kept him safe, protected, away from the dangers that took his leg. Even if it had meant Steve getting hurt or possibly killed in the event, he would much rather have that then have Bucky experience one single ounce of pain.

“Stevie?” Bucky mutters again, but his voice sounds so far away. “Oh sweetheart no, please don’t cry. Hey Stevie, baby no.” Bucky lets out a wet chuckle as he gathers Steve in his arms and pulls him into his lap, but Steve only tucks his head into Bucky’s neck and sobs. “Steve I didn’t tell you this to make you cry, I’m okay now I promise.”

“You got hurt,” Steve cries, his hands wrapping around Bucky’s body, the sensation of the brunet’s skin against his fingertips comforting him just a bit. “Y-you suffered. You could have _died_.”

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers lovingly, his hands cupping Steve’s face and lifting him away from his neck. Steve misses the warmth and security almost immediately, being out in the open and crying like this makes him feel vulnerable and weak. Bucky doesn’t need to see him weak, he needs to be strong for Bucky. He needs to… he needs… _Why am I so goddamned weak right now?_ Bucky wipes away a tear from his face and lifts his head so that they are staring each other right in the eyes, and Steve can’t stop the small whine that leaves his throat. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a faulty leg to kill me.”

“Fuck off asshole, you could’ve died,” Steve mumbles, frowning as he wipes his eyes. Bucky lets out a loud laugh, placing a kiss on Steve’s forehead before he pulls Steve close to his chest. Steve sniffles quietly, nuzzling into Bucky’s chiseled chest as the latter guides them to lie down.

“Please… please don’t ever drink again, Bucky. I can’t, I just… I don’t want you gettin’ hurt again. Please.” Steve knows he sounds vulnerable and unstable, his voice is shaky and cracked and he knows he sounds desperate too. But he never wants Bucky to experience that type of pain ever again. He loves him too much. Maybe it’s unfair of him to ask such a question so boldly, but he never wants Bucky to suffer again.

“I promise you, on my life Stevie.” Steve smiles against Bucky’s chest, feeling as if he has finally done something right in his life. “An’ Stevie? I figured out my answer for that question you asked me earlier.”

“You did?”

“Mhmm,” Bucky hums, lifting the blankets to cover their bodies. Steve hums at the warmth, sniffling again as he tucks his head into Bucky’s neck. “I’ve come to the conclusion that I wouldn’t want to do anything different with my life. _‘Robbin’ an’ thievin’ an’ shit’_ , a very accurate description might I add, sounds like the perfect life. Want to know why?” He nods in quiet interest. “Because livin’ this life gave me you, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

_Livin’ this life gave me you, and I wouldn’t change that for anything._

Steve feels his heart stop. Bucky can’t possibly mean what he think he means, does he? Steve lifts himself up so that he is sitting in the middle of Bucky chest, the alpha’s eyes staring up at him with an unbelievable amount of adoration that Steve finds it hard to breathe.

“What I’m trying to get at here,” Bucky states, and Steve watches as his hands making their way up his thighs and settle on his hips, before looking back into Bucky’s eyes. “What I’m trying to say is…”

“Yeah?” Steve tags quietly, hoping that this conversation is going the way he thinks it to be. Bucky lifts him up a bit, moving Steve so that he can properly sit back up on the bed, and pulls Steve incredibly close.

“What I’m trying to say is that… Jesus Christ, this is– wow, I’m so fuckin’ nervous–” Steve brings his hands up to cup Bucky’s face, the brunet silencing himself to stare at Steve. He feels himself blush after a few seconds of Bucky’s intense gaze, and his cheeks start to burn when the latter starts to wrap his arms tightly around his small frame. After moments of staring into each other's eyes, each other’s souls, each other’s hearts, Bucky finally speaks in the softest tone: “I’m falling in love with you, Steve Rogers. So hopelessly in love with you that I can’t even begin to describe it. And I’ve never felt this before and it scares the living shit out of me, but… I can’t stop myself from loving you. And… I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop myself from loving you.”

“ _Well Jesus fuck_ , about time,” Steve exhales, surging forward to crush their lips together. Bucky lets out a muffled sound of surprise before falling into the rhythm of Steve’s mouth, tilting his head and tightening his hold on Steve’s frame. “I’ve been waiting,” _Kiss._ “For you to say that,” _Kiss._ “So that I could say the same.” _Kiss._

Bucky pulls away to speak, “You what?”

“I love you too, Buck. A whole lot. I was afraid to say anything, I didn’t know if you were gonna feel the same–” Steve cuts himself off with a laugh, looking up at Bucky in a shy glance. “Guess I know now, huh?”

“I guess you do,” Bucky replies before kissing Steve again. Steve cannot help the giggle he lets out when Bucky begins to trail his lips down his neck, suckling right under his jaw. “You have the prettiest laugh, sweetheart. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“I’m not–”

“Dear God, you shut your trap right now, Rogers. We’ve been over this,” Bucky growls, turning sharply and pressing Steve into the mattress. Steve moans loudly at the movement, his body aching and demanding to be touched. He feels Bucky smile against his neck, before biting down without any warning; the shout that falls from Steve’s lips must delight Bucky, for the other man hums quietly before whispering in his ear, “Nevermind, you keep that lovely mouth of yours open; I’m goin’ to make you scream tonight, sweetheart.”

___________________________________________________________

 

_He loves me,_ Steve thinks with a small smile as he stares out toward the sea, admiring the way the stars reflect out on the water; twinkling and shining without a care. This was always his favourite part of being on a ship, sailing the seas under the open night sky, spotting as many constellations as he could. He loves quiet moments like this. The brisk air surrounds his body completely, and under normal circumstances he would be absolutely freezing cold, but he has his heat to thank for the warmth. And Bucky’s enormous shirt that is currently cloaking him, nearly falling to his knees and covering the trails of bites and love marks covering his body. It makes him blush just thinking about it.

Looking back out towards the sea, he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as he does so. The salty air stings his nose a bit, but he lets that off with a chuckle. _He really loves me_ , Steve thinks again, as if he’s trying to convince himself of the fact. It is not that he does not believe Bucky, because he knows that Bucky would never lie to him, it’s just… hard for him to grasp the concept of being on the receiving end of someone’s love.

In the past, Steve never had any real luck with relationships. Most of the alphas that he had romantically taken an interest in were either with him simply to ‘fool around’, or because they had nothing better to do with their time. It had gotten to the point where Steve was being taken advantage of left and right and did nothing to stop it; he thought it was love; he thought that all those alphas had truly wanted to be with him. But he was sorely mistaken. It took a harsh but well-needed pep talk from Natasha for him to see the truth, and after that he had convinced himself that he would never find someone who could love him for the person he is.

Then Bucky came into his life, and while their meeting may not have been the most romantic or conventional way of doing things… Steve is glad that it happened. He misses his friends dearly; he thinks about them everyday, and prays that they are doing well; however, when he does eventually leave this ship, he hopes Bucky will leave it with him. Maybe they can escape, be free of this treacherous life and run. It’s wishful thinking, but Steve does not deny himself of it. They can find a way back to his crew, Steve knows all their hot spots; where they frequently trade and barter with merchants. If they can just get to them, they’ll be safe…

“Was wonderin’ why I woke up so cold, you abandoned me in bed. _Without blankets_ ,” A voice mutters behind him as a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist. Steve laughs quietly, laying his hands atop Bucky’s arms as he leans back against the alpha’s chest, tilting his head back to rest it on Bucky’s shoulder. He smiles when Bucky turns his head and presses a soft kiss on his temple, his fingers unconsciously tracing circles on Steve’s abdomen.

“I covered you before I left, it’s not my fault you move in your sleep and kick off all the blankets.”

_“That’s why I need you in bed,”_ Bucky whines, resting his chin on Steve’s head. “You keep me warm.”

“How do I keep you warm?” Steve inquires with a chuckle, opening his eyes again to stare out at the water. “You do realize that I’m, like, a third of your size, right? I can’t possibly keep you that warm.”

“You do,” Bucky affirms, holding him a bit tighter and letting out a breath. “So what’re you doin’ out here at this time of night, without _pants_ , while you’re still in _heat_? Alone?”

“I’m not alone, you’re here now,” Steve retorts, only to hear Bucky grumble. “I’m fine, really. Yer crew is drunk below deck, most of them have passed out by now. You shoulda heard them a few minutes ago, they were all playin’ music real’ loud until some of them started complaining about how annoying it is. They’re not the brightest bunch.” At that, Bucky snorts and nods his head against Steve’s, “Yeah that’s true. All brawn, no brain…”

They share a laugh before falling into silence, Bucky’s loving embrace keeping Steve safe and protected. It is in this moment that Steve realizes just how deep in love he truly is. Turning his head, he moves so he can see Bucky’s face clearly. His sharp, cutting features are made soft by the twinkling stars in his eyes, the soft breeze gently blowing through loose strands of Bucky’s hair to frame his face beautifully. He looks… delicate, almost. Vulnerable. So capable of corruption and yet… so undeniably pure. So full of grace and kindness, one would have a hard time truly believing what Bucky does to survive in this cruel world.

Steve lets the silence stay for a few more minutes, for he is finally able to take in a deep breath without a worry. He is in Bucky’s arms, guarded from the evils surrounding them both. Maybe they can protect each other for a little longer, hang onto this moment and cherish it for more than it appears. Maybe, if Bucky holds him tighter, maybe if Steve can be stronger, they could get out of this. But it is a fantasy, Steve knows this. The chance that Bucky could ever leave a life like this, given everything Hydra has done to him, is slim to none. And while Steve loves him dearly, is a life on this ship all there is to his story?

“Whatcha thinkin’ Stevie?” Bucky mutters, his fingers caressing Steve’s sides in a reassuring manner. Leave it to Bucky to pick up on his doubts.

“Want to know something crazy?” Steve questions instead of answering, looking back out to the sea with a nervous swallow. It would be better to leave Bucky out of his concerns; he does not want the alpha to be walking on eggshells around him.

“I’d love to,”

“I–” Steve starts, before letting out a breathless chuckle as he shakes his head. “Have I told you that I can’t swim?” Bucky’s hands freeze on his body, so he continues. “Ironic, huh? A pirate who can’t swim. For someone who spends so much time on the water, you’d think I’d know how to swim. Crazy, huh?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a bit, but his hands resume their travels, his touch comforting and calm. When he finally does speak however, it comes out it the softest of tones that Steve had ever heard him make, “That’s why it took you so long to jump that night. You wouldn’t have been able to swim to your crew…”

“Yeah…” Steve glances up at Bucky to see the brunet’s face pulled in a saddened frown, his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes wet. With a small smile, he turns himself in Bucky arms, lifting one hand to cup the alpha’s cheek while the other splays across his bare chest. “And you want to know something even crazier?” Bucky nods without a word. “I’m happy I hesitated, and… I’m happy you caught me.”

Bucky’s eyes, still wet and gloomy, begin to show some light. That fire that lives within Bucky’s heart that has yet to burn across the earth; Steve sees its potential, and he knows that with that fire, maybe their love can survive. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, going up on his toes to press a kiss upon Bucky’s lips. He feels Bucky’s smile against his own, and when he pulls away, he can see that he has made Bucky unbelievably happy with those words. Before he knows it, Bucky is picking him up and holding him in his arms with a wide grin, and Steve cannot help but start giggling at his newfound position, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as the brunet holds his thighs. “What’re you doin’?”

Bucky leans forward, capturing Steve’s lips once more as he begins to walk back to his cabin. Steve makes a small noise, deepening their kiss. _“We,”_ Bucky mumbles, holding Steve tighter. “Are gonna have some fun tonight.” Steve laughs against Bucky’s lips, tangling his fingers in the brunet’s hair as the latter takes them across the ship and back towards his cabin.

They are so wrapped up in each other, so utterly distracted and in love, that neither of them see the figure behind them emerge from the shadows, a sinister smirk covering his face as he watches the men enter the cabin, the door shutting loudly behind them. Safe, for now.

“Finally, Barnes has a weak spot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this chapter made up for my absence! Thank you all for reading! If you liked it, be sure to leave a comment/kudos because y'all are my support system <3
> 
> And now, for the surprise :)
> 
>  
> 
> Clearly I can't draw well. The ship is literally a blob with an outline, and Bucky's back is... well, it's not great. But I wanted to draw a landscape for this chapter for the longest time, and I literally did this in fifteen minutes so _I know_ it's not beautiful or perfect or whatever. But I'm really happy that I drew it, and maybe if you guys like this one, I'll doodle up some more scenes for future chapters. Who knows?
> 
> Anywho, thanks again for reading. I'll see you lovelies for the next chapter! <3


	10. Break His Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We can’t do this anymore,” Bucky bluntly states, continuing to stare at the wall ahead of him, completely avoiding Steve’s questioning and confused gaze. “Do… what?” Steve asks, unsure of what exactly Bucky is talking about. “Bucky is everything alri–”
> 
> “We can’t be together, Steve,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY LADS, LONG TIME NO CHAPTER. NOPE THIS STORY ISN'T ABANDONED AND I'M SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER TO BRING YOU GUYS THIS. IT'S FULL OF ANGST THOUGH AND AGAIN I'M SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME I LOVE YOU ALL ENJOY

From as far back as Bucky could recall, he has always enjoyed nights such as this.

Nights where the sea is calm, the waves lost in a deep slumber of peace and tranquility. The stars sing above him, twinkling brightly billions of miles away. The ocean rocks the ship in a gentle manner, the planks of the deck creaking with every soft movement of the water. The sails, usually blown wide and proud, are hoisted up tightly in their keep, waiting for their moment to be let loose. But with the nearly nonexistent breeze subtly hitting the loose strands of his hair, Bucky knows better than anyone that sails are pointless at this time.

From his post at the wheel, he can see every metre of his ship, from rail to rail, crate to crate. Everything in its place, exactly as it should be. On some occasions, especially on nights like this, Bucky thinks about how lucky his life truly is. Sure, he is absolutely filthy most days, and often goes to bed with an aching body and a tired mind. But this life gives him the freedom to travel the world, seeing places most would only dream of seeing. This life gives him courage, strength, bravery. Yet more importantly, this life gave him Steve.

Steve, his darling, precious omega, whom he loves with all his heart and soul. Steve, the man who dropped into his life out of nowhere, and turned it around for the better. Steve, a tender being who wears his heart on his sleeve and fury in his eyes. In this little amount of time, Bucky has become so completely enraptured by this man that he can hardly breathe. And he wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

It has been a week since they had confessed their love for each other, and they have been enjoying every second of it. With Steve still in heat, Bucky has been making sure that his omega is as comfortable as possible; he has been keeping him well fed and hydrated, making sure he is getting plenty of rest, and of course, pleasuring him in the best possible ways. Steve has been insisting that he can take care of himself, but Bucky will not stand for it. Besides, he has grown to love taking care of Steve.

“Alright now, Cap’n, time for my rounds,” Rumlow’s voice cuts him out of his stupor, his head turning to look upon the alpha climbing the stairs to reach him. _Finally,_ Bucky thinks to himself, _I can go back to spending time with Steve._ He had never wanted to leave Steve’s side to begin with, but he still has his duties as a Captain, and unless he desires a revolt from his crew, he knows he has to keep his responsibilities in line. Bucky steps away from the wheel, firmly patting Rumlow on the shoulder in thanks, and allows the other man to take the wheel in hand in a wordless exchange. He moves to walk away, to finally return to his lover, when Rumlow pipes up a question.

“Barnes, before you retire to your quarters, do you mind a word?”

“Not at all, Rumlow,” Bucky replies, turning back around to face his First Mate. He desperately wants to get back to Steve, but he hopes that this will not take long.

“It’s about the omega,” Rumlow says, not bothering to look at Bucky and instead stare straight ahead. This bother him almost instantly; Rumlow has always looked him in the eye when talking directly to him, and the fact that he isn’t makes his blood run cold.

“What about him?”

Rumlow lets out a humourless chuckle before locking the wheel in place, leaning against it to look at Bucky. “Cut the bullshit, Barnes–”

_“Excuse me?”_ Bucky interjects, but it’s no use.

“Allow me to be straightforward with you, Captain. Your feelings for the omega are no secret to me. And the crew… you say that they’re _‘all brawn, no brain’_ , right? No, they’ve caught on.” Bucky feels his heart stop, the world coming to a complete halt around him. _They know._ “You should be careful of the things you say Captain, it may come back to bite you in the ass.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Take it how you want, Captain. But you know what Pierce will do if he finds out.” He’d kill Steve on the spot and make Bucky watch…

“He’s not going to find out, and you’re going to keep your damn mouth shut about it.”

“And if I don’t, what are you going to do? Kill me? Good luck explaining my death, Barnes. I’m going to say this to you once–”

“I am your Captain and you are in no position to give me orders,” Bucky spits out the words like venom, nearly face to face with Rumlow at this point. He grabs a fistful of Rumlow’s coat and shoves him against the wheel, about ready to tear the man limb from limb. “Remember your fucking place. You are going to keep your mouth shut or I swear to god I won’t hesitate to kill you. It won’t be hard to explain your death and believe me, I won’t feel an ounce of regret.”

Rumlow, instead of looking fearful as Bucky hoped, pulls a filthy smirk, his face contorting into an evil grin. “My god, you’ve fallen in love with him. Well, this works greatly in my favour.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Captain. I’ll keep my mouth shut. Pierce won’t know. I’ll make sure the crew keeps their mouths shut too. But you have to do one thing for me.” Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, instead opting to stare at the man with murder in his eyes as. He could kill Rumlow right now, but if Rumlow is telling the truth about the rest of the crew knowing that Bucky has feelings for Steve, it’s only a matter of time before they kill the both of them, or tell Pierce… He decides to listen to Rumlow’s offer.

“What is it?”

“Can’t have you forgetting your duties… Break his fucking heart, or I’ll kill him myself. Or, I could just save you the trouble and kill him right now, but that wouldn’t be fair; you should at least get the chance to do _some_ damage, right?”

Bucky stumbles away from Rumlow, his body now trembling in anguish and despair. Rumlow expects him to break Steve’s heart… he’d never be able to do it. He loves Steve, more than he has ever loved another human being. What Rumlow is asking is impossible. “I can protect him, you’ll never be able to–”

“Have you forgotten about the fact that your crew knows? They’d help me take the both of you down. Dear God Barnes, love has made you soft. Look at you, you’re shaking like a fuckin’ pansy.” Rumlow smirks, before smoothing out his coat and taking a few steps toward Bucky, passive aggressively patting him on the shoulder. “You should go now Captain, while you still have time.” Bucky watches helplessly as Rumlow returns to the wheel, unlocking it from its position and going about his job as if the conversation had never even occurred.

Bucky takes a few steps back, his breathing becoming more harsh as he tries his best to quickly retreat to his cabin. He needs to see Steve, he needs to keep him safe. He can do that… right? Life is moving in a fast paced blur, and he doesn’t even realize that he is back in his cabin until he feels himself slam the door shut.

“Oh hey you’re back! Sorry I took up half your desk, I was messing around with…” Steve’s voice drowns out in his ears as Bucky turns around to see his beautiful omega wearing nothing but one of his shirts, his sketches splayed across his desk along with Bucky’s notes. _God I love him so much. I’m not going to let anything happen to him._ To hell with what Rumlow said. He is _never_ going to let that bastard lay a finger on Steve. Bucky can protect him. He _can_ and he _will._ No one is going to take Steve away from him, not if he has something to do about it.

Bucky strides over to Steve, the latter still distracted by shuffling papers on the desk, and wraps his arm around Steve’s midsection to turn him around, bringing his hand to cup the omega’s face and kisses him. Steve lets out a muffled sound of surprise, the papers in his hands falling to the ground. “I love you,” Bucky mumbles, pulling away a fraction of an inch before closing the gap once more. It takes a second for Steve to move in tandem with him, but within moments the other man is grabbing fistfuls of Bucky’s coat and kissing back.

He presses Steve against the edge of the desk, before moving his hands down his body to pick him up and set him atop the flat surface. He hears papers and books fall off the side of his desk, his container of writing ink tipping to the side with a small sound, but he does not care. Steve’s hands are framing his face and his legs are around Bucky’s waist; everything else… it doesn’t matter. Steve is his only priority.

“I love you so much,” Bucky says, his arms wrapped tightly around Steve. “God Steve, I love you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Steve replies, breathless.

“No Steve you don’t get it. I love you,” Bucky mutters as he rests his forehead upon Steve’s, frustrated because he isn’t sure how to clarify what he means. He does not even know what he means, it makes sense in his head but he isn’t sure now to express it. Bucky loves Steve more than words can describe. “I just– Steve I love you. You don’t understand, I love you.”

Steve pulls a small smile, gently caressing Bucky’s cheeks with his thumbs as he whispers, “I know what you mean. I do. And I love you too, so damn much.” Bucky pulls away to look at Steve, their eyes connecting and that is when he _sees it_ . That look in Steve’s eyes that tells him he knows _exactly_ what Bucky means; without explanation, without confusion. _Steve understands exactly what I’m trying to say, and I don’t even have to say it. God I love him._ Bucky smiles back, his eyes wet with emotion as he gazes upon the love of his life. He would mate Steve in this very moment if he’d let him.

_‘Break his fucking heart, or I’ll kill him myself.’_ Rumlow’s words haunt him, but he shakes his head in attempt to clear his thoughts. He surges forward, reconnecting their lips with hunger, nearly crying with relief when Steve lets out a moan against his lips. “Can we?” Steve whispers, and Bucky does not hesitate to nod. He wants to make Steve feel good, to make him feel safe and loved and protected. Maybe it’s also to reassure himself that he can, in fact, protect Steve.

Bucky takes a step back, his hands moving upwards to unbutton his shirt while Steve’s go straight for his belt, unbuckling it in one go. Steve pulls the belt loose from Bucky’s pants before he tosses it off to the side, now focused on his trouser clasps. Bucky finishes off his shirt with the final button, following in Steve’s motions and casting aside his shirt. With a small growl, he brings his hands to Steve’s face and tilts the latter’s head, reconnecting their lips in a feat of hunger. Bucky relishes in the low moan Steve lets out when he nibbles on the blond’s bottom lip, Steve’s fingers struggling to open his pant clasps.

Keeping his lips on Steve’s, Bucky trails his hands down the omega’s sides, slipping them under the fabric of Steve’s (technically his) shirt and tugging upwards. Steve lets go of Bucky’s pants to raise his arms, allowing Bucky to effectively pull the shirt off his body, before the brunet balls it up and chucks it away. Bucky decides to help Steve a considerable amount, so he quickly unclasps his pants and slips out of his boots, kicking them away until he is left standing there completely naked.

With a swift move Steve is in his arms, the omega’s legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist as the latter reconnects their lips. In moments, Bucky is walking across the cabin and setting Steve down in the middle of the mattress as he slips his tongue into Steve’s mouth. “Jesus Christ, look at you,” Bucky growls, pulling away for some air, looking down as he watches his hand drift down Steve’s midsection, stopping at the blond’s hip. “You’re so perfect.”

Steve whimpers at his words, tilting his hips upwards out of desperation. Lowering his head, Bucky latches onto Steve’s chest, sucking marks onto his omega. _His. Steve is_ **_mine_ ** _. No one is going to fucking take him away from me._ He leaves a plethora of bruises in his wake, placing gentle kisses atop each of them as he finishes, pulling away satisfied. Only _his_ marks, Bucky’s marks, can be left on Steve’s body; if anyone even so much as tries to lay a _finger_ on what is his, he will lose his mind.

“Turn over, baby,” Bucky mumbles, kissing at the crook of Steve’s neck.

“Huh?” Steve moans distractedly, so caught up in Bucky’s kisses that he doesn’t even register the question. He loves it when Steve gets like this, soft and compliant enough to be moulded in his touch, yet a sturdy place that Bucky calls home. Home. Steve is his home now. Maybe, maybe he always has been.

“I want ya t’ turn over, sweething,” Bucky repeats. Steve’s brows furrow in confusion as he cracks open his eyes, shooting Bucky a small pout. “Turn over… But you said you didn’t like–”

“I know, but I want you to turn over. Can you do that for me, baby?” Steve nods his head excitedly, turning over when Bucky lifts off and gives him room. Bucky smiles at his omega’s excitement; normally, he would prefer to have Steve on his back or in Bucky’s lap when he fucks him, because he loves seeing those beautiful eyes glazed over with arousal, moans escaping from his parted lips. But he knows that Steve loves being fucked this way too, on his elbows and knees; it hits him deeper, so he says. And not that Bucky does not enjoy it, he loves it; he simply cannot see Steve’s face this way. Steve gets into position quickly, wiggling into his spot as if he can hardly contain himself.

“Settle down, doll,” Bucky huffs, kneeling behind Steve and grasping those hips he adores. He runs a smooth line with his fingers at the base of Steve’s spine, biting his lip at the sounds of Steve’s muffled moans. “You look so gorgeous like this, I could knot you right now sweetheart.” He hears Steve whimper and his hips move in his hands, trying to press against Bucky’s pelvis. “Patience is a virtue, don’t think I won’t be taking the time to open ya up.”

“S-stop delaying,” Steve turns his head to beg, his words trailing off into a whine that he knows Bucky will listen to. And he does; he could never say no to a voice like that. Leaning forward, Bucky places his lips to Steve’s back, kissing and licking a trail down his spine. The blond’s body shivers beneath him, laced with anticipation and want as Bucky nears his desperate core. His lips continue on their journey, across the base of his spine and each cheek, before he eyes Steve’s leaking hole with an unimaginable hunger.

_‘I’ll kill him myself.’_

Bucky growls and lunges forward, downright attacking Steve’s core with his lips and tongue. He feels almost that, if he stops, he’ll lose Steve forever. And he can’t. He simply _can’t_ lose Steve because if he loses Steve then he loses everything that has ever mattered to him. He can’t… he just can’t…

Steve cries out, his moans muffled by the pillow he has shoved his face into; his fingers intertwine in the sheets, gripping so tight that his knuckles grow to a pale shade of pink-white. Steve tries desperately to roll his hips towards Bucky’s mouth, but the movements are slow and hardly there; yet Bucky can feel every twitch of muscle, and knows that Steve is trying to help. God he loves him.

Trailing his hands up Steve’s thighs, he lets out a moan of his own when Steve whimpers at his touch, nearly crying out when Bucky’s hands reach his ass. He moves his head back a bit, laying a series of kisses on Steve’s bottom as his fingers dance around Steve’s core, his index teasing and collecting the leaking slick.

“Taste different, sweetheart,” Bucky mumbles, drawing circles with the pad of his finger. “I think your heat is comin’ to an end soon.”

“You still– you still gonna want me after it’s over?” The question is muffled, but it is genuine. Bucky can hear the uncertainty in Steve’s voice, carefully hidden under sounds of pleasure, but there all the same.

Bucky clicks his tongue, applying pressure and pushing past the ring of tight muscle. “Tck tck tck, you think I could possibly leave you? And let someone else have the chance to lay a finger on you?” He pushes in a bit further. “Not ever. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Never lettin’ you go.” Steve whimpers into the pillow again, and Bucky feels like he could bust his lip from biting down on it so hard.

Let Steve go? Simply because his heat is ending soon? No. Never. He could never stop loving Steve Rogers. His little omega, so full of spunk and determination; body and bones ignited with a raging, uncontrollable fire, one that could never be put out; eyes that hold the galaxies in their irises, twinkling with delight with every smile, each little giggle that passes from those lips Bucky simply adores. _God his lips._ He could kiss them every second if Steve let him. Bucky knows that he’s crazy, a fool so caught up in love that he has forgotten what he was like before Steve wandered into his life, took his heart by the reins, and led his on this crazy journey. Where he’ll end up? Bucky has no clue, but he’s damn sure that he wants Steve at his side.

_‘You should go now Captain, while you still have time.’_

He hates, absolutely despises this new power Rumlow has over him; those taunting words repeating in his head like a mantra; over and over and over until Bucky goes insane. And he might just go insane, the thought of losing Steve is something he simply can’t shake, he does not want to deal with the prospect of a heartbreak. He couldn’t survive it. Hardly a few minutes pass before Steve is letting out a shout, body shaking as he comes. Bucky helps him ride through it, muttering words of phrase to his perfect omega. _His._ Bucky clears his mind with a violent shake of his head, focusing all his attention on Steve. Steve. The only person that matters in this life, the only one who gives his life meaning and purpose.

**_No one is taking him away from me._ **

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Bucky questions, only to get a small, satisfied whimper in return. He lets out a light chuckle when Steve drops down on the bed, moaning quietly into the pillow. With a smile, Bucky kisses a trail up Steve’s spine, passing over his shoulder blades and ending at his neck as he drapes his body over that of the omega. “You want to keep going?”

Steve hums, turning over onto his back and making grabby hands for Bucky, eyes closed and lips pulled into a soft grin. “Mmm, only if you want to.”

“Well, what would you like?” Bucky drops down beside him, propping his head up and watching Steve with loving eyes. Steve moves and cuddles up to his side, and says in the most innocent voice possible: “I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Steve, his innocent, sweet little omega. _What the fuck._

Bucky chokes, staring at Steve with wide eyes. “What?” Steve asks in the most innocent voice imaginable, almost as if what he just said was nothing out of the ordinary. Bucky moves quickly, climbing over Steve and caging him against the mattress, licking at the crook of his neck. “Dear lord, sometimes I forget that you’ve got quite a filthy mouth, sweetheart.” Steve giggles. _Giggles. It’s so innocent._

“So, you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“Jesus Christ, _Steven!”_

___________________________________________________________

 

Bucky awakens with a start, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as he takes in gasping breaths. The room is shrouded in darkness; the moonlight is nonexistent, and every candle is left unlit. He always leaves at least three candles lit before he and Steve fall asleep; Steve simply feels more comfortable sleeping with a source of light nearby, and seeing that they are all nothing but unlit stubs, he feels a stressed pang hit his chest. Nervously, he pats the mattress to his side, simply to make sure that Steve is there and that he’s safe, only to find nothing but cold sheets. He immediately shoots his gaze to where his hand lies, his blood running cold when he realizes that Steve is gone. He’s not here. He’s not by his side. _Where the hell is Steve?_

Bucky begins to panic, haphazardly throwing the sheets off his naked body before jumping to his feet. He stumbles around, walking to the other side of his bed; maybe Steve had fallen off the side in his sleep? But on the other side, there is nothing but hard wooden floors for him to find. Bucky shoots to his feet, running a frightful hand through his hair as his breathing, already elevated, begins to quicken even further. He scans the cabin, his eyes now somewhat adjusted to the dark, in hopes of finding Steve.

That’s when he notices a faint light emanating from the bottom his door, the orange tint glowing slowly brighter. He rubs his eyes before looking back, afraid that it is simply his mind playing tricks on him. But the light is still there, beginning to outline the entire frame, the luminescence seemingly begging for him to open the door. Taking cautious steps, Bucky walks towards the door, tentatively reaching his hand out to grasp the handle. It’s ice cold. The sensation jolts him backwards half a step as he pulls his hand to his chest to coddle it. He takes a few seconds to recover, before he reaches out once more and carefully grabs and the freezing cold handle, opening the door quickly and letting go.

He’s met with a bright flash of orange as he takes a step out on the deck. Bringing his arm to cover his eyes, he quickly blinks, trying his best to adjust to the sudden shift in light. While he struggles to see, he tries to smell the air, hoping to catch a string of Steve’s scent to locate him. Instead, he’s met with another smell. Lowering his arm, Bucky squints to look upon his ship, engulfed in flames all around. His eyes go wide as he turns, spectating the chaos from a helpless position. This makes no sense; for one, the handle to his door was cold, it should not be cold if there is a _fire_ on just the other side. And for another thing, where is his crew? _Where is Steve?_

Bucky raises his hand to go through his hair again, only to stop once he touches his head, bringing his hand in front of his line of sight. There, wrapped around his fingers and his palm, is a glove. Confusion strikes him as he brings up his other hand, surprised to find it also encased in a glove. His confusion does not stop there. Bucky notices a blue sleeve, his eyes trailing over his arm, across his chest, all the way down to his toes. He is fully dressed in his formal attire, which he only saves for celebrations or for the funeral of a high ranking crew member. Was he not naked just now? When did he become clothed?

He is cut out of his thoughts when he notices a figure through the flames, standing across the ship from his current position. Bucky runs, hoping and praying that that figure is Steve. The flames do nothing to stop him from reaching the other side, he does not even feel the heat. May it be panic or adrenaline, he feels nothing other than the aching need to find Steve and get him to safety. _He can’t swim. If I don’t find him before this ship goes down, he is going to die._

When he reaches the other side however, Steve is not only person he finds. He stares ahead helplessly; it all happens so fast, in one breath, Bucky couldn’t have stopped it if he tried. It’s Steve, sitting on the ground, attempting to scoot away as he stares ahead at Rumlow, fear in his eyes as tears roll down his precious face. Rumlow shows no remorse, instead a feral grin on his face as he holds the pistol in his hands tighter, aiming directly for Steve. It’s over in seconds. Bucky screams right before Rumlow fires.

“No!” Bucky cries out as the gun goes off, stumbling forward towards Steve in hopes to intercept the shot, but it’s no use. It hits Steve directly in the centre chest, the blond’s eyes going wide as he cries out in agony. Bucky falls to the ground beside Steve, catching the omega before his body falls against the deck. He’s shaking as he pulls Steve’s body close, sobbing as he moves the hair from Steve’s face. Steve is gasping, his hands attempting to grab at Bucky’s coat. “Stay with me, Steve. C’mon baby stay with me.” Steve’s hands finally grab fistfulls of his coat, holding on like it’s his lifeline. “Hang in there Steve, I’ll figure something out–”

“B-Bucky,” Steve stutters, a thin line of blood seeping out from the corner of his mouth. Bucky shushes him gently, using his thumb to try and wipe away the blood from his mouth, the white glove on his hand turning a deep red red. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Save your strength Steve, I’ll get us out of here–” Bucky stammers, moving his hand down to press on the wound to suppress the bleeding. It doesn’t help. “I’m not– I’m not gonna make it,” Steve chokes out, and Bucky feels a fresh wave of tears hit his eyes. “Stop, you’ll make it. Just hang on–” Steve moves one hand up, slowly and broken, and cups Bucky’s face. Bucky stares, the world around them coming to a halt as Steve whispers, “I love you,”. Soft and quiet and hardly there, but Bucky hears it. God, Bucky hears it. And it’s the last thing Steve says, his breathing coming to a slow stop, the light leaving his eyes in moments.

“Steve?” There’s no answer. _“Steve?”_ Bucky tries again, hoping it’ll bring a different result. There is no change. No answer falls from Steve’s lifeless lips. He screams Steve’s name, crying into his chest as he holds him tighter. He’s covered in blood and dripping in sorrow; his life, his love, his only reason for existence, is gone.

He doesn’t notice the footsteps approaching from behind until he feels Rumlow’s pistol pressed on the back of his head. “I told you, Captain. I said that there would be consequences to your actions, yet you simply don’t listen. Alas, at least you’re dressed for the occasion.”

“Go to hell,” Bucky mumbles, his vision blurry from tears. He cradles Steve delicately, pressing the blond’s head into his neck. Steve had once told him that he always felt safe there. “I love you, Steve.” He whispers, shutting his eyes for the last time as the gun fires.

Bucky wakes up screaming, shooting up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. His body is shaking uncontrollably, every muscle sore and aching; his chest is heaving brutally, every breath stinging, as if a knife has severed his lungs. Everything hurts; his heart, his head, his hands. The hands that held Steve.

_Steve._

Just at the thought of his name, Bucky snaps his head towards Steve’s side of the bed, relieved to find him right there. Sound asleep, looking like the world’s most beautiful angel. He’s alive. _God it was so real. I felt it. I felt him dying. He was right there, right fucking there, and I couldn’t protect him._ Bucky cannot help himself; he begins to cry. Bringing his hands to his face, he drops his head in his palms and sobs, his whole body jolting in agony and sorrow. Rumlow was right. He can’t protect Steve. If he can’t even protect him in a dream, how can he be expected to do it in the real world? He’d fight tooth and nail to keep Steve safe, there’s no doubt about that. But against a crew made up entirely of strong, unruly alpha’s? And if word gets out to Pierce, he’ll have to fight against the wrath of the entire Hydra fleet.

He never thought that loving someone would put them in so much danger. Well, he knew the consequences. They both did. But Bucky was blinded by love, and thought that if he simply ignored the inevitable, it may never come. Yet that is simply not how the world they are wrapped up in works.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice is groggy and sleep ridden; Bucky probably woke him up from his crying. It makes him cry even harder. He can’t imagine a world, a life, an existence, without Steve in it. Steve has become too important, and it’s made him so incredibly weak. A weakness that will not be tolerated by the tides. “Buck what’sa matter?”

Bucky just shakes his head in his hands, not wanting to worry Steve. The less Steve knows the better. Steve wouldn’t understand; he’d try to fix things, to figure out a way for them to survive. It will never work, Bucky has seen far too many people die already. He feels the bed shift next to him, before Steve places his hand on his lower back, rubbing small, reassuring circles. It only makes him cry harder in his hands.

A small tug on Bucky’s elbow from Steve makes him slowly fall back, until Steve is cradling his head to his chest, allowing him go cry into his nightshirt. “I’m sorry, Stevie,” Bucky mumbles through sobs as he wraps his arm around Steve’s middle, holding him close. _I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m sorry for taking you from where you truly belong. I’m sorry for putting you in constant danger. I’m so fucking sorry for loving you, I never could have imagined that it would lead to this. I’m sorry for ruining your life. You don’t deserve this._

“Shh shh, it’s alright. It was just a nightmare, yer safe Buck. ‘S okay. Yer okay, I promise,” Steve whispers lovingly, the blond’s right hand running through Bucky’s hair as the left strokes his arm, trying his best to calm Bucky down. Bucky buries his nose into Steve’s neck, taking in his welcoming scent and holding on to it as best he can.

He doesn’t know how much longer this will last.

___________________________________________________________

 

Steve awakens with a happy sigh, something he hasn’t been able to do in almost two weeks. His heat is finally over, and his body is finally giving him a chance to relax. To recover. To simply, rest. And he intends to. He wants nothing more than to cuddle up with Bucky all day, even though he knows that he’ll have to leave him sometime during the day to attend to his duties. And while he wants to go outside with him and stay by his side, Bucky had told him a little after his heat had started that he would not be letting Steve roam around outside, even if he stayed close by; he knows that the scent of Steve’s heat would still linger on his body, and that it would attract Bucky’s crew.

And that’s alright, he would rather stay inside anyways. He can sleep in with Bucky, and keep himself busy until his alpha returns later on in the day. _My alpha,_ Steve thinks with a smile, bringing his hand to rub his eyes, clearing them of sleep as he yawns. With a small groan Steve rolls over onto his back, expecting to meet Bucky’s body in a warm embrace, only to find him sitting up on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tight and back hunched over.

“Mornin’ Buck,” Steve mumbles, scooting over to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist, the position slightly awkward since he is still laying down and Bucky is sitting up. But he doesn’t care, he still holds tightly and lets out a happy noise. He can’t remember a time where he was this happy. “Steve,” Bucky responds in a monotone greeting, not saying anything else. He seems upset… Steve wonders if he did something to provoke this. Hopefully not, he does not want to make Bucky angry for any reason.

“You alright?” Steve rubs his hand on Bucky’s lower back, trying to comfort him. A few seconds go by, and Bucky does not answer his question. With a frown falling over his lips, Steve sits up in bed, the sheets pooling around his waist as he does so. He lays himself over Bucky’s back, hugging him close as he rests his head on Bucky’s left shoulder. “Are you thinking about that nightmare from a couple days ago? The one you won’t tell me about?” He feels Bucky’s head nod. “Oh I’m sorry baby… hey, look at me,” Steve shuffles over a bit until he’s sitting at Bucky’s side, bringing his hand to cup his alpha’s face and turn it towards him. Bucky’s eyes are shallow and dull, practically void of any known emotion. It makes Steve’s heart ache.

“It was just a nightmare, I promise. It wasn’t real. You’re safe, okay?” Steve prompts, hoping to get something other than just silence. Bucky only looks at him, staring at and through him, as if he can see every aspect of Steve’s existence and then some more. “And besides, I wouldn’t let anything happen to ya, I love ya too much. I’d protect ya.” Bucky makes a small noise at the back of his throat, closing his eyes as he makes an effort to nod. Steve leans forward to place a kiss on Bucky’s forehead, one on his cheek, before traveling down to his lips. “I’ll keep you safe,” Steve whispers, before pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips.

Despite Bucky’s lack of communication this morning, Steve feels a sense of relief wash over him when Bucky kisses him back, his arm wrapping around Steve’s waist to hold him just a bit closer. It makes him smile.

“Come on, grumpy butt,” Steve jokes when Bucky pulls away, moving to stand up. He walks over to Bucky’s clothing cabinet, pulling out his pair of pants and one of Bucky’s shirts, and begins to get dressed. “You don’t have to go out until later in the afternoon, right? We could spend the whole morning together and just lay around. Granted, you probably think I’m no fun anymore since my heat’s over,” He chuckles as he slips on his pants, buttoning them expertly, before throwing on the shirt. “You know, as much as I don’t like wearin’ shoes in here, I think I’m gonna break my own rules and wear ‘em. This floor… I don’t think I ever realized how dirty it is.” Walking over to his shoes lying by the door of Bucky’s cabin, he picks them up before slipping them on and tying the strings.

With a satisfied grin, Steve spins around on his heels, looking over at Bucky with a bright smile, hoping that Bucky’s mood has shifted in the past few minutes. When he sees that it hasn’t, his smile falls. _Did… did I do something?_ “Bucky…?”

“We can’t do this anymore,” Bucky bluntly states, continuing to stare at the wall ahead of him, completely avoiding Steve’s questioning and confused gaze. “Do… what?” Steve asks, unsure of what exactly Bucky is talking about. “Bucky is everything alri–”

“We can’t be together, Steve,”

Steve doesn’t know why, but he lets out a small chuckle. Surely Bucky is not proposing what he thinks he is, right? That would be insane; they have already confessed their love for each other, they’ve touched and held each other in more ways than can be described. Steve… he’s imagined a life… a future, with Bucky. His dreams at night are filled with the hope of spending the rest of his life with Bucky. His Bucky. His alpha. His light in this dark, cruel world.

He can see himself raising a family with Bucky, despite Steve’s bloodline’s record for fertility troubles. But they would try, he knows with all his heart that they would; they would keep trying for a family, Bucky would never let Steve give up hope, even though he has no clue about Steve’s potential infertility. Steve can see himself marrying Bucky; walking down the aisle, tears of joy rolling down his face while his alpha waits for him at the end, a happy smile on his gorgeous face. He can practically feel the pinch and pleasure of Bucky biting down on his mating gland, truly marking Steve as his. So there is no possible way that Bucky means what Steve believes him to be.

“You’re funny, alpha. Seriously, what’s the matter–”

“Dammit, Steve, _stop,”_ Bucky growls, abruptly standing from his seated position and turning to look at him. His glare is hard, cold… empty. So goddamned empty that it sends a chill down Steve’s spine, and not the good kind. He’s never seen Bucky like this, and he does not like it one bit. There’s… There is not one speck of love or affection in his alpha’s stare; it makes him feel so incredibly small, almost completely worthless. “I don’t want to stay together with you, how hard is that for you to understand?” The world seems to freeze as those words tumble out of Bucky’s mouth, everything around them coming to a deadly, crashing halt. Steve thinks he has forgotten how to breathe like a normal human being.

“I… what?” Steve somehow manages to stutter out, helplessly looking at Bucky’s form as it walks by him, heading to his desk chair to pick up his coat. He hopes and prays deep down that this is some cruel trick Bucky is playing on him, but seconds go by and Bucky does not seem to be joking around. _I don’t understand, we were so happy before we went to sleep. What did I do?_

“Oh please, Steven. Don’t tell me that this comes as a surprise to you,” Bucky spits out heartlessly, shrugging on his coat. He can’t even look Steve in the eye.

“This is some sort of joke right? I mean you… you told me… I told you… I don’t understand,” Tears begin to pool in Steve’s eyes, his vision steadily becoming more and more blurry with every passing second. Of _course_ this is a surprise, Bucky told him that he loves him. That he’d protect him through thick and thin. He is so utterly confused and lost and vulnerable, and he feels so fucking alone and helpless. He wants nothing more than for Bucky to scoop him up and hold him in a tight embrace, make him feel better in an instant.

“You… you told me that you love me. Just last night you said that. And, after everything else that you’ve shared with me, after everything I’ve shared with you, you’re telling me that you don’t want to be together? I came back to this ship just to be with you, because _I love you_. Bucky, if this is a joke, it isn’t fucking funny.”

“Oh I’m not joking around, Rogers. You can’t possibly think that we had anything real, I mean, c’mon. Now the thought of _that_ … _that_ is a joke. A relationship with you? Please, I only helped you through your pathetic heat, and now that’s over; time to face reality.”

“No,” Steve fights, tears rolling down his cheeks. He sees a small hint of heartbreak flash over Bucky’s eyes at the sound of his voice. “You told me you loved me–”

“I don’t love you,”

“That’s not true,”

“I have never loved you,”

“Stop it,” Steve pleads, nearly begging for the torture to end. Bucky does not give him such an opportunity.

“I will never love you,”

Steve falls to his knees, sobbing and crying for Bucky to stop. His head falls into his hands, his sorrows leaking across his palms in a frenzy. “Y-you don’t mean that. You d-don’t mean any of that,” Steve cries, his eyes shut as Bucky walks towards his weak form shaking on the floor.

“I mean every word.”

“No,” Steve sniffs, looking up at Bucky with red-rimmed eyes, using his sleeve to wipe his face. He stands to his feet, the movement wobbly and extremely uncoordinated, and he almost misses the movement Bucky makes with his hands, as if he was preparing to catch Steve if he had fallen over. But he does see it, and it gives him the slightest speck of confidence he needs. “You love me. I know you love me,”

“I don’t,” Bucky responds, but his voice is slightly cracked. The bastard can’t even face him.

_“I know you do!”_ Steve practically screams, running his hands frantically through his hair before throwing them down again. He probably looks like a lunatic, a mad man perhaps. But he has every right to feel this way. “Look me in the eye. _Look at me right now and tell me that you don’t fucking love me!”_

“I– I… I don’t– I don’t…” Bucky stammers, attempting to face him but the effort is poor. “I–I don’t love you.” Still, he doesn’t look at Steve. Despite his tears, Steve begins to laugh. There’s no humour; it’s full of nothing but pain. He sees Bucky shut his eyes at the sound, like he _knows_ how much this is killing him but yet he still stands there, unmoving and unable to face him.

“Do you actually think I believe you? You can’t even look at me–”

“Stop making this harder than it needs to be. Steve please,”

“I just don’t understand,” Steve chuckles as he shuts his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. He opens them again and simply stares at his feet, watching helplessly as tears hit his boots and the wooden floor below. He does not hear the footsteps approaching, but in seconds he is wrapped up tightly in Bucky’s arms, the alpha holding him so close Steve can hear the thudding of his heart. Despite himself, Steve grabs a fistful of of Bucky’s jacket and cries into his chest, sobbing loudly.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky mumbles against his head, and Steve feels his body shake; he is crying too. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.” Steve shakes his head and regretfully pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself. He feels naked; alone and confused and utterly abandoned.

“Keep me safe from what? From you? You could never hurt me,” Steve mumbles, taking a few steps back as he does. “Well, not anymore I guess.” He’s still crying, tears spilling down his cheeks as he turns around and makes his way towards the door.

“Wait, Steve– Steve where are you going? Your heat just–”

“Yeah it just ended, but you don’t love me right? Why do you care what happens to me?” Steve spits out without turning to look at him. He hears Bucky swallow, and nods his head when the brunet doesn’t respond. “Exactly. Hope you got what you wanted, Bucky. Is your dick satisfied now? Or do you still need me to be your hole to fuck?” Bucky’s head shoots up in bewilderment, tears running down his cheeks as he looks upon Steve with a shocked expression. “Steve, no that’s not–”

“Save it,” Steve states harshly, waving his hand in the air, still refusing to look at Bucky. He does not want him to see just how broken he has made Steve, he does not want to give him that satisfaction. “I don’t want to hear it. I just– I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Steve wait–”

“Stop, Bucky! Alright?! Just. Fucking. Stop. You’ve done enough,” Steve roughly pulls open the door, his breathing staggering, almost as broken as he feels. “I just…” Steve looks up at Bucky, one last time before he exits. He studies the alpha’s features. Those strong hands, left open and empty, as if they are unsure of what to do with themselves. His chest, the one that Steve has spent so many nights falling asleep on, rises and falls with each ragged breath. That silky hair, whose strands he used to run his fingers through mindlessly, is a mess atop his head. And those eyes. Those goddamned eyes that made his heart stop the very moment they connected sights. The eyes that he could look into for hope and relief; those eyes that, with one simple look, could speak the words of thousands. He fell in love with a man with beautiful, piercing eyes, yet it seems that now, those eyes will never look at him with love in return.

“I thought… I just thought you were different.” Steve can hardly even recognize his own voice. He thinks he hears the alpha call out after him, but there’s a ringing in his ears that he simply cannot shake, not does he want to. He walks into the purity of the light, hoping that, somehow, the brightness will clean him of the dark words Bucky has blanketed over his soul.

_I thought you were different. I thought you loved me. I thought that this was real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry, this was so painful. Please don't hate me.


	11. A Startling Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever experienced heartache?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back much sooner than y'all probably expected!! This is a shorter chapter but I felt that it was time to see some things from Brock's point of view (later in this chapter)
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> This chapter contains mentions/attempts of suicide. Not to spoil, but no one dies in this chapter from a suicide attempt. I just wanted to mention this incase it was a trigger for any of my readers.  
> If so, don't read!! This chapter isn't 'essential' to the storyline, so if you skip it you won't really miss anything.
> 
> Anywho, happy reading lovelies
> 
> (I ALSO WROTE THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR SO IF THERE ARE GRAMMAR/SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SORRY)

Have you ever experienced heartache?

The kind that makes breathing a more difficult task than it should be? Where food becomes tasteless, nothing but pale lumps of sustenance? The world… it’s not as colourful as you once knew it to be; the water is a wretched shade of black, the sky nothing but a worrisome shade of grey; the sun, well, not even the sun shines as bright. Everything just becomes dull. Pointless.

It is heartache like this when one realizes that the love they had was real. Not like those absurd tales young couples in love share, when it’s clear that it will be over soon due to feelings lost, swept up in the wind with no effort to get it back. That is not romance, it is simply a filler.

Steve… Steve was never a filler.

Steve was light. Steve was joy and passion and intelligence. Steve was an artist, with talent so spectacular it belongs on display for all to witness the magnificence of his creations. Steve was laughter in its purest form, so bubbly and exuberant that one could not help but join in.

Steve’s touch was soft. Delicate. Calm and yet, so powerful. A storm brewing, gradually getting closer with each kiss. With every brush of skin upon skin. All those beautiful sounds he would make were akin to an angel’s chorus, a worshipful sound yet Bucky was the one rejoicing.

Only now he’s not rejoicing. He’s loading a gun through tears, the fine powder getting all over his hands in the process. He’s drunk, the one thing he promised he would never experience again. But the alcohol dulls the pain, but not enough. He wants it gone for good. Some sort of redemption for his transgressions, if you will. He hasn’t realized that he’s tipped over his jug of water atop his gun, soaking it completely. And when he aims for his head and pulls the trigger, he breaks down, collapsing to the floor, a fresh wave of tears making their way down his cheeks.

Gunpowder does not work when it’s wet.

___________________________________________________________

 

It’s been a week. Steve’s hardly eaten anything. Sleeping is an activity he no longer takes part in; his dreams are plagued with Bucky. Vivid memories of when they used to be happy, the world outside the cabin door nothing but a terrifying story parents tell their children to make them behave. Images of Bucky’s smiling face, that dorky grin Steve loves wrapping around his mind and overcoming his thoughts.

Loved.

That grin he loved.

The warm embrace that kept him calm on nights of vicious storms, when the ship tossed through the waves, an unstoppable force of sheer power. He loved the feeling of Bucky’s arms around him, holding Steve close to his chest as he whispered into his ear, _‘I’m right here, you’re safe. I love you, you’re safe.’_ Quite frankly, it is unbelievable that the one person who promised to keep him safe was the one person who caused him pain. But most things in life are unbelievable.

When Bucky called him beautiful for the first time, Steve laughed it off. Their relationship was nothing more than Captain and Prisoner; it did not matter, because Steve thought that Bucky only meant it as a term of consolation for the omega suffering in this forced imprisonment. When they got together, Bucky made a point to say it at least once a day; whether it be the moment Steve woke up or after an exhausting day of helping Bucky out on the ship, Bucky would call him beautiful with a voice laced with such sincerity that he started to believe it. That maybe, yes, maybe he was beautiful. Maybe he was worth this love that Bucky was giving him.

But he will never be beautiful. He will never be wanted nor will he ever be enough. It’s a disturbing realization but not a startling one; he has simply been blinded by the prospect of finally finding love in its truest form that he’s forgotten: _I am worthless. I am not capable of love. I am not capable of happiness. Of… anything significant in this world. This is simply a giant game that’s fucked with my head, and I was just a pawn; another piece to be used and tossed away, part of a collection on the side of the board, not to be cherished ever again. This is what my life amounts to. And God what a terrible life this has been. I thought I had found peace, when in reality, I had found destruction._

Steve chuckles humourlessly, resting his arms on the railing and watching as another tear falls from his cheek and hits the water below. Even with the moon partially hidden behind the clouds, he thought the water had more colour to it before. Or was that a lie too?

The water below still terrifies him. Being alone however… being alone is the most frightening thing he can imagine.

He wants to jump, knowing full well that he won’t survive; he can’t swim, and at this point he’s glad. Would Bucky care? Probably not, right? After all he said to him just days ago, caring is the farthest thing in Bucky’s mind. Would Bucky feel guilty? Of course not; Bucky kills for a living, another death won’t phase him. He thought… Steve thought he finally had _meaning_ , a purpose in this world. He wanted to live out the rest of his days at Bucky’s side, the both of them building a life together far from the confines of Hydra.

“You know,” A voice mutters. “If you’re thinking of jumping, I’ll tell ya right now that your death won’t be as quick as you think it to be.” Steve turns his head, wiping away a few stray tears and looking upon the newcomer standing a yard or two away from him. Rollins, he thinks his name is, although he isn’t quite sure. They’ve only interacted a handful of times, the most recent being when Rollins stood up to a handful of Bucky’s crew after Steve emerged from the cabin a week ago, fresh off his heat. After the… incident. He still does not understand why Rollins did such a thing, but what is even more confusing to Steve is that as soon as Rollins stepped in, every single alpha backed off. Alphas don’t usually back off from other alphas so easily.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve replies, looking back over the water. The cold silence fills in the gaps again, but a wave of comfort washes over Steve’s shoulders. Maybe it shouldn’t, but he has to admit it to himself: he enjoys the company, suffering in silence has always seemed much more dangerous doing alone.

“C’mon, what’s yer story? No one just stands out here and cries without reason.” Rollins pipes up again, walking over and leaning against the railing right next to Steve.

Steve sighs heavily, “I fell in love with someone I shouldn’t have.”

There’s a beat of silence before Rollins chuckles quietly, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Steve frowns and looks over at Rollins, only to find him looking towards the ship’s wheel. Angling his head, Steve lets his mouth fall open slightly in surprise. It’s Rumlow, at his usual position this time of night. He snaps his head back when Rollins begins to turn towards him again, not wanting to be caught making his discovery.

“So what are ya going to do about it, little man?”

“What?”

“I mean, look,” Rollins stands up straight, his palms flat on the railing. “Love is a beautiful thing, no matter who it’s between. I don’t know your whole story and frankly I don’t want to. It’s not my business. But between you and me, I hate this policy of not having love.”

“You know about the policy?”

“Everyone knows about the policy. And everyone hates it. Sure, most of us here are just looking for something to fuck, but me? Nah. That’s so juvenile and meaningless. I want love, I want to have that. You and the Captain? You guys had something. It’s probably safest that you both ended it though, but it doesn’t mean that what you both had wasn’t real.”

“I…” Steve stammers, fiddling with his fingers. “I never said it was the Captain.” The last thing he needs is Bucky dead because of him. He sees Rollins eye him carefully from his peripheral vision but is thankful when the alpha does not call him out.

“Fine. Whoever this person is. You still love them?”

“Yes. Well… I think so.”

“Well, little omega. Just take my advice, yeah? Don’t stop going after someone you love. If you truly love them, then you fight for them–”

“Even if they didn’t fight to keep you? And they told you that you meant nothing to them?” Steve interrupts, eyes stinging from the pain of heartbreak. Rollins sucks in a breath, “That’s pretty shitty… But did you ever think that maybe they were doing it to protect you?”

_‘I’m just trying to keep you safe.’_

“I…” Steve stops himself, swallowing his words and coiling in on himself.

“All I’m saying is that love, real love, doesn’t come often. You should cherish it while you have it.”

“Even if it kills you in the end?”

Rollins laughs and ruffles Steve’s hair. “Ain’t that the best kind of love?”

Steve smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s a smile nonetheless. He bids Rollins goodnight and turns away. By instinct his feet carry him towards Bucky’s cabin, and he only realizes his mistake when he’s standing a few feet away from the door. He wants to go in. He wants to crawl under the covers and into Bucky’s arms, and stay there forever. But he shakes his head and spins on the ball of his foot, walking across the deck and down to the sleeping quarters. The crew was nice enough to give him a cot in the corner as well as a blanket, but nothing will ever comfort him like Bucky did.

___________________________________________________________

 

As soon as Steve is out of sight, Rollins lets out a sigh. Omegas have it so easy. They walk by and their scent alone is enough to drive every alpha around them mad with want. Each day he wishes that his body was like that of an omega; he wishes that he wasn’t an alpha. In this world, just speaking of an alpha having feelings for another alpha is cursed. It’s unholy, not allowed, and illegal in most places. Still, that doesn’t stop his heart from beating when he sees Brock. He’s the only one on this ship, besides the Captain of course, that knows Rumlow’s first name.

Yet if romance between an omega and an alpha are already against the rules, there is no possible way that romance between two alphas could even be imaginable. Not that Brock would want him, but he still likes to think about it. Dream of the possibility that, yes, they could be together and, yes, Brock _wants_ him just as much as he wants Brock. But not after what happened at the last docking.

“Can we talk?” Brock’s voice comes out of nowhere, causing Rollins to sharply turn around in fear. Even with the body and scent of an alpha, Rollins knows he acts more like a defenseless omega than he does an alpha. Regaining his composure, Rollins straightens his coat. “I have nothing to say to you. You should get back to your post.”

“Jackie please–” He attempts to leave but Brock reaches for his wrist, trying to stop him.

Ripping his hand from Brock’s hold, Jack turns and growls. “Don’t _Jackie_ me, Brock. You made the choice, not me.” Brock looks down, a torn expression cloaking his features. “You knew how I felt and you used me when you had nothing else. I’m not some whore that you get to fuck then forget about.”

“I know, I know that and I’m sorry–”

“Are you? Are you actually sorry?” Jack questions, his hands clenched into fists. “It’s not fucking fair, Brock. I know how you feel about love, how yer a stickler for the rules. And everyone knows you threatened the Captain; stupid move, by the way. But doing what you did to me? After what we did and you act like it never happened? You’re not an alpha, you’re just a fucking coward.” Jack stomps forward and brushes past him, purposely knocking Brock with his shoulder.

Jack only makes it a few feet away before he’s roughly pressed up against the rail. “Oh fuck you–” Brock’s lips are against his before he can even finish his statement. He attempts to push Brock away because he’s _upset_ , he’s still so _furious_ about what happened, but then Brock’s hands are at his waist, pulling him closer, and he can’t think anymore. He hates this power Brock has over him. One touch and he comes undone, nothing but molasses for the other alpha to mold.

“I’m sorry,” Brock whispers, before diving in for another kiss. “You didn’t deserve it. You never deserved what I did.”

“No, no stop,” Jack pushes him away, despite wanting to stay in Brock’s embrace for as long as he can. “Y-you decided that I meant jackshit to you when you fucked me then left. You don’t care. Don’t pretend that you do.”

“But I do. Jack, I was scared and I’m so sorry. Please…”

Jack avoids his gaze, tears threatening to escape. “I… I can’t right now. Maybe another time. I just… I’m more than a simple fuck-and-go, Brock. I don’t think you understand that.” This time when he walks by him, Brock doesn’t make an effort to stop him. Jack does not know if he’s grateful for it or if he wishes Brock had stopped him.

Brock listens carefully as Jack’s footsteps fade away, traveling across the deck before climbing down to the sleeping quarters. When he knows that Jack is out of earshot, he smacks his fist down on the wooden railing. Jack is right, this is his fault. Truth be told, there is something wrong with him. Well there _has_ to be, right?? When is it proper for an alpha to love another alpha? In this society? It’s as if he were asking to be shot. But when he was with Jack, everything simply made sense. Colours were vibrant. Food, despite being tasteless and stale most of the time, it seemed to have flavour. He was always looking forward to see the face of his alpha. _No, not mine._

Then he screwed up. He gave in to his wants and desires. Brock simply couldn’t help himself, he had been holding back for long enough, and neither could Jack. Yet when he woke up the next morning, after a night filled with joy and hushed confessions, he panicked. What if someone found out about what they had done? They’d both be dead, no question. And that was a fate Brock couldn’t see for Jack.

Brock hates this. This hiding that he must do, to keep both Jack and himself safe. Most of all, however, he hates his Captain with a burning hunger. _It’s not fair._ His Captain has the omega wrapped around his finger, and while he would still fall into trouble for falling in love with the omega, the Captain himself will most likely not be killed. He’s jealous that he can’t fall in love the way he wants to, and the fact that Barnes _can_ … it makes his blood boil. That’s why Brock does this, use the Captain’s weakness for the omega to make sure he does not fall down the same path he has. Not that he cares, quite frankly he has no personal care for the Captain, but because he does not want someone else to experience something he cannot. It’s selfish and cruel, but welcome to the real world. Falling in love is a beautiful thing, if only the consequences were just as beautiful; just as innocent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this was so short, but I hope it was alright?  
> If you enjoyed this, please leave a kudos/comment, the support means the world to me ❤︎
> 
> See ya next time, lovelies!


	12. Apologize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve hardly eats, hardly sleeps. He never seems to be hungry enough to think it a requirement to eat something of nutritional value. At night, his head is haunted by beautiful, timeless images of Bucky. Whether it be the alpha laughing, waking up in the morning, or even visions of them getting frisky with each other, Steve cannot get them out of his mind. He should. He should try harder to forget, to let go. But something inside, deep down in the core of his soul, is telling him to hold onto the smallest string of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys I'm back!! These past few weeks have been really rough, I'm not gonna lie. I've been so unmotivated to do anything, school is kicking my ass, and people are being even more asshole-ish than they already are. (is that a word? eh whatever, it is now)
> 
> Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I'll have then next one up soon hopefully. (the entire story is actually done, it's just heavily unedited and my mental state is not in the best place to be critiquing my own work at the moment). This chapter probably has a load of typos, I apologize in advance.
> 
> I'll shut up now, enjoy!

Another week passes. 

Then another.

And another.

Steve hardly eats, hardly sleeps. He never seems to be hungry enough to think it a requirement to eat something of nutritional value. At night, his head is haunted by beautiful, timeless images of Bucky. Whether it be the alpha laughing, waking up in the morning, or even visions of them getting frisky with each other, Steve cannot get them out of his mind. He should. He should try harder to forget, to let go. But something inside, deep down in the core of his soul, is telling him to hold onto the smallest string of hope.

Sleep becomes hopeless in return.

He still has a hard time grasping this entire situation; he can’t figure out where he went wrong, what exactly he did to make this entire thing derail. Steve has always believed that his personality, which he still thinks is a real piece of shit, is enough to make up for his appearance or lack thereof.

Maybe that’s why he wanted to believe so badly in each time Bucky told him he was beautiful. It was the only time he would ever hear it, because he knows he’d never hold himself up on such a high pedestal. But if Bucky could lie to him, call him beautiful, call him special, someone worth the love he was receiving, then maybe he could lie to himself too. Right?

That’s how these things work, right?

_ Right? _

___________________________________________________________

 

It’s hard to live with the things that he’s done.

For starters, Bucky has never taken pride in taking lives. Not everyone is innocent, mind you. There are those that deserve to be killed and believe him, Bucky has seen his fair share of assholes who he did not hesitate to feed to his blade. Rapists, murderers, human traffickers, slave traders of the seas. He’s encountered them and made sure they would never take another breath. Then there are those who Pierce loves to kill, just for the fun of it. Defenseless cargo or charter ships, trying to cross the ocean without conflict. Like  _ The Widow… _

He’s stolen too. Thousands upon thousands of riches for Hydra to spend without worry, leaving merchants broke and hungry. Without a means of proper financial support for themselves, for their families. While, yes, he enjoys the plethora of riches he receives from the pillages, he hates the outcome for others. That’s why he keeps practically nothing for himself, the guilt that hangs over him is heavier than the coins rattling in his pockets.

But the hardest thing he has ever had to live with is telling Steve he didn’t love him.

He’s never liked lying, but he downright  _ hated _ the fact that that he lied to Steve. He loves Steve more than anything or anyone he has ever loved before, and Bucky knows for a fact that he will never love anyone the way he loves Steve. It won’t ever be the same.

No one will have Steve’s smile, the little shake of his head and the blush that covers his cheek when he does so. No one will have Steve’s delicate touch, the precise movements of his fingers as they skim over a canvas leaving trails of art in their wake. No one will have Steve’s eyes, those goddamned beautiful eyes that took his heart with one glance.

No one will be Steve. He only wants Steve in his life, to hold, love, and cherish. And now he’s gone and possibly fucked up every single chance he ever had with Steve.

___________________________________________________________

 

Bucky knows that he is not supposed to show any worry for Steve, he has to make his  _ ‘I don’t love you’ _ speech seem somewhat believable. If not to the others than to himself, because he knows that if he continues to hold onto these feelings for Steve, everyone will catch on. But he can’t help but worry; he has not seen Steve for the last three days.

He shouldn’t worry.  _ I’m not supposed to worry. I’m not supposed to love him. _ But it’s Steve, so how could he not worry? How could he not love him? Bucky knows Steve is still on the ship, the omega’s scent would have faded by now if he had jumped off. It’s strong yet slowly fading hour by hour, and it’s nearly the end of his shift at nightfall when he loses it.

Majority of the crew is still on deck, going about their weekly upkeep chores on the ship, but at this point he doesn’t care about their observing eyes when he locks the wheel in place and removes himself from his post. He clammers down the steps, chest puffed out in frustration and fists shut tight.

He’s been suppressing his worry for the omega for far too long and he simply cannot take this anymore. The omega.  _ My omega. _ His senses kick into overdrive as his breathing quickens in pace, everything around him going dark as he stops himself on the deck. Squeezing his eyes shut, so tight that he can begin to see galaxies under his eyelids, before he opens them again and the entire world is in black and white.

There’s a small string of colour, similar to a line or pathway, that is wrapped around the deck like small scribbles in a child’s sketchbook. Not knowing what else to do, and seeing as that the blue light is his only source of colour, Bucky does what any logical man would do when encountered with something strange: he begins to follow it. Bucky’s a man on a mission, a predator on the hunt, and no one is going to fuck with him if he has something to say about it. He follows the trail, shoulder-checking several of his crew members by accident and receiving confused grunts in return. But he does not care, not when the scent of, goddamnit,  _ his omega _ , is fading. 

The trail leads him below deck to the crew’s sleeping quarters, the string of light tucked away into the back corner. Letting out a small growl, his feet carry him to the far end, the light growing stronger the closer he gets. When he finally reaches Steve, his heart drops down into the pit of his stomach at the sight.

Steve is lying on the floor, covered in a poor excuse of a blanket and shivering beyond belief. His skin is paler than usual and his hair is a disheveled mess upon his head. It’s clear that he is incredibly sick; if the fact that he is currently vomiting into a bucket is some clarity. The world shifts again, colour returning once again as he falls to his knees beside Steve. 

Before he knows what he is doing, his hands gather the hair falling into Steve’s face and pull them away, not wanting for Steve to get any vomit in his hair. Steve continues coughing into the bucket, spilling out what looks to be nothing but bile. Bucky rubs soft circles onto his back, hoping the movement will ease the other man enough to cease throwing up. After a few minutes Steve pushes the bucket away, laying back down on the floor before finally looking up at the alpha.

“What are you doing here?” Steve questions tiredly, but it comes out as more of an angered statement than a question.

“Worrying my ass off about you, that’s what,” Bucky mutters, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with a small pout.

“I don’t need you worrying about me,” Steve pushes away Bucky’s hand and curls in on himself, his body shivering from his sickness. Bucky’s face falls, a feeling of hopelessness beginning to flood his chest. “I don’t need  _ you _ of all people worrying about  _ me _ .”

Bucky shakes his head, scooting closer to the omega, “Hard  _ not _ worry about the person you love the most.” The shivering stops for a moment as Steve looks up, confusion morphed onto his precious features as the shivering returns full force. Bucky has a hard time reading the look in Steve’s eyes, but when Steve silently lifts up his arms towards him, a movement he used to do so often, Bucky does not hesitate in reaching forward and scooping him up into his arms.

“I can’t decide whether or not to punch you, so for now just get me out of here, you jerk,” Steve mumbles as he wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and tucks his head into Bucky’s neck. His safe spot. His home.

Bucky knows he’s in for it; an argument, one he knows he will lose because he was wrong to let Steve go. He was wrong to think that Steve was any safer being apart from him when in fact, he had only put Steve in more danger by leaving him vulnerable out on the ship with nothing but unruly alphas. He knows Steve will yell at him, say words that are nothing short of terrible, and he wants it. He wants the fight, he wants to apologize, he wants to win Steve back one day at a time, find someway to redeem himself. But most of all, he wants Steve to love him again— he wants to be  _ worthy _ of Steve’s love. He does not deserve it and he knows that, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to correct his mistake.

Bucky moves to stand, holding Steve tightly in his arms as if his body were a lifeline. When he turns around however, he is presented with a new conflict: Rumlow. Standing there, arms crossed with a mad glare covering his features. Steve shifts in his arms, sensing the tension in the room, before curling his arms tighter around Bucky’s neck; he’s frightened and vulnerable, they both are. Tightening his hold on the omega’s body and taking in a shaky breath, Bucky moves forward towards Brock, hoping to pass him without any confrontation. He almost does in fact, yet before he can leave the sleeping quarters Brock reaches his arm out, halting Bucky of his movement.

“You’re treading in very dangerous waters, Captain,” Brock mumbles, looking straight ahead and not sparing him a single glance.

“And you dare threaten your Captain,” Bucky pauses to look over to his first mate, anger swelling in his chest. “You dare to threaten me again, and I will show you no mercy.” He pushes past Rumlow’s arm and trudges up the stairs, ignoring the looks he is receiving from his crew as he crosses the deck. Steve whimpers quietly in his arms, sick and in vast amounts of pain that Bucky wishes he could ease in this very moment. When he gets inside, he’ll lay Steve down and tend to his every need; clean him up of all the dirt, grime, and vomit; put him in a fresh set of clothes; get some food and water into his system. But most importantly, he’ll apologize for everything he’s done. He’ll make things right.

___________________________________________________________

It’s a week later when Steve manages to keep consciousness longer than a few minutes at a time. His fever broke within the first few days, offering Bucky some much needed relief. But what still worries him is that Steve is having such a hard time keeping anything down, vomiting every few hours before falling back on the bed and passing out once more. Whatever bug he caught, he can’t seem to shake off easily and Bucky can’t even sleep at night because of it.

But when Steve finally, finally wakes up and stays awake, he feels a flicker of hope ignite in his chest. Steve has a hard time facing him, Bucky realizes, and he understands why. Yet it does not stop him from cleaning up after the omega, feeding him and keeping him as hydrated as possible. He’s fueled by worry, guilt, love, and little by little it’s killing him inside to see Steve this way.

“Stop,” Steve pipes up, “I’m gonna be sick.”

Bucky drops the spoon in the bowl and immediately sets Steve’s food down on the night table, moving off the bed and scrambling to pick up the empty bucket he designated for Steve to throw up in. When he brings it back however, Steve… waves him away. Puts his hands in his lap and looks down. He’s silent for so long that Bucky is afraid that he’s fallen back asleep. “... Steve?”

“I’m sick. So sick of this. I’m sick of wondering. Sick of pretending. Sick of hiding. Sick of feeling so goddamned confused because of you. You act like you care, putting on a show for me. But then,  _ then, _ ” Steve chuckles, but he isn’t laughing; Bucky knows it better than anyone, Steve is being torn apart on the inside. “Then you go and tell me that you don’t love me. Sorry, let me rephrase that: you have  _ never _ loved me, and you  _ will never love me! _

“I can’t sit here and just let you keep pretending. I am not going to let you do that to me again. You are such a hypocrite, everything you say is a contradiction! You told me that you loved me,” Steve sniffles, and that’s when Bucky realizes that there are tears running down his cheeks. He desperately wants to wipe them away, he wants to fix everything right now, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt Steve. “You— I let you in. Shame on me, I guess. 

“You know more about me than most people do. I told you about my past, what I’ve been through, what has been done to me, and I still let you in. I trusted you. I trusted you to keep my heart safe because that’s what you do for the people you love. You take care of them, you protect them, but most of all,” Steve finally looks up at him, unshed tears pooled in his eyes. A small hint of surprise flashes over his features when he sees that Bucky is crying too. “Most of all, you never let them forget how much you love them. Even if loving them is the biggest risk you could take.”

Bucky is quiet for a moment, looking down as heartbreak and redemption swirl around in the pit of his stomach, each one fighting the other to see who the final victor is. He has so much to say, so much to apologize for but the words simply won’t come out. He hears Steve sigh, dejected and resigned, and feels the bed shift slightly.  _ No, I can’t let him walk away. Not again, I can’t lose him again. _

“I was weak,” Is all he manages to croak out, his voice hoarse and broken. Steve stops moving. He counts it as a win. “I… I was weak. I thought that, that getting you to hate me, making you leave me, I thought that you would be safer. I’ve got targets on my back, Steven. Being a part of Hydra, bein’ a Captain for Pierce’s fleet, I’m always being hunted. But, loving you?” Bucky glances up, tears streaming down his cheeks as he looks over to Steve. “That put a target on your back and I wasn’t going to allow anyone to try and hit it.”

“I can take care of myself, I can fight–”

“It’s more than that Steve. I  _ know _ you can fight, I  _ know _ how strong you are. But to go against the whole fleet? Steve I don’t underestimate you, I never have, but taking down this fleet is going to take more than just willpower and a gun.”

“Why the whole fleet? Why not just those who threaten you?”

Bucky smiles slightly at Steve’s hidden optimism. “We’re gonna have the whole fleet going after us. The rule I’ve mentioned before, it’ll come into effect soon and you’ll be dead. I don’t know if they’ll kill me but if they kill you I sure as hell hope they kill me too, I can’t live in a world without you in it. I’m not strong enough to save you from all of them, but I’ll try my hardest to.

“And… I was scared to admit that before, that I’m not strong enough to protect you from everything. So I took the coward’s way out; I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t tell you what was happening, and for that I am so sorry. I’m sorry for saying all the things I said to you; they were lies and I didn’t mean any of it. I thought I could live knowing that you’d hate me and you’d be safe, but being apart from you killed me Steve. God I know I sound so selfish and I’ll understand if you want to leave, I won’t hold it against you–”

“No,” Steve interjects harshly. “You don’t get to make decisions for me anymore, not like this. You think that being apart from you didn’t kill me? Do you know how hard it was for me to accept that you said you didn’t love me? It hurt like hell. And now you’re telling me to walk away again? No. People in relationships make decisions  _ together _ , don’t you dare shut me out again.” Steve scoots close and grabs at Bucky’s hands, holding them close to his own.

“I want to be with you Steve. I want a life with you. I want to get as far away from here as possible and live out the rest of my days by your side. But–”

“No ‘buts’, Buck.”

“Steve there’s so much at risk–”

“I’d rather risk everything than have to go through the pain of losing you again!” Steve all but shouts, tears now becoming rivers, flowing down his cheeks. Bucky leans forward and pulls Steve towards him, resting his forehead upon the omega’s. They both take deep breaths through the sorrow, holding each other close but hardly touching at all. “I can’t… Don’t make me go through that again. I can’t… I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. If this… if this is what you really want, then I want that too. There are going to be risks and we very well may die, but I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. And Steve I know it’s hard for you to love me, if you still do, but I love you more than anything. I should have told you as soon as I realized and I should have never told you any different. I can’t give you much in the world, hell if we leave here I’m still a wanted man but–”

“I don’t care. We’ll run, we’ll find a way out. You and me, together. But I swear, you say shit like that again I’m gone for good. I won’t live a life where I have doubts if you truly care about me, if you actually love me.”

“I won’t ever let you doubt it again, okay? I’ll remind you every second of every day until you’re sick of it and beggin’ me to shut up, and even then I won’t stop. I’ll never let you forget how much I love you, how much you mean to me.”

Steve lets out a wet chuckle at his words and Bucky smiles. “Good, I’d be upset if it were any other way.”

Bucky laughs quietly and presses a gentle kiss on Steve’s nose. He’ll take things slow, as slow as they need to go. It’s all at Steve’s pace now. They’ll build up to the love they once had. They’ll find a way to escape the confines of Hydra. They will find a way to survive. But most importantly, they will find a way out together. Bucky is never letting go again, and he’ll die trying to find a better life for the both of them, if he must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked that chapter! Please be sure to leave a comment/kudos if you did, the support keeps me going <3
> 
> (also quick question, would anyone be interested in hardcopy versions of this fic once it's completely finished? I'm thinking about possibly selling some)


	13. Find A Way Back To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck you. Fuck you for trying to take him away from me. Fuck you Rumlow, I should have aimed better when I stabbed you so long ago. Mark my words, when the day comes, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and I’ll enjoy it. But not before I make you suffer, not until I make you beg me to kill you. Fuck you.” Bucky has never seen fear in that man’s eyes, but the look Rumlow is giving Steve… it’s worse than fear, it’s sheer terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I'm back sooner than I thought, and I hope you guys like this new chapter! I believe I caught all my errors, but if not then don't be afraid to call me out!   
> Anyways, I'll shut up and let you guys read. Enjoy!

“Alright,” Steve states, slamming down one of Bucky’s large maps onto the cleared alpha’s desk. Bucky moves forward and helps him to unroll the map, continents and countries coming into view as the parchment glides across the tabletop. Steve backs away and lets Bucky unroll the rest of the map, walking around the desk and opening one of the drawers, rummaging through it to find a quill and some ink. Upon acquiring what he was looking for, he goes back to Bucky’s side and begins.

“Here are all the outposts my crew hits. Every trading spot, every secret tavern, all of it,” Steve dips the quill in the ink before dragging the feather across the parchment, circling and sectioning off every city, port, and town his crew routinely frequents. Their plan isn’t the best, but it’s all they’ve got.

The idea is to hit every location on this map, playing it off to the rest of the crew as nothing but stock and supply runs. He’ll go and find their usual traders and ask if Natasha and the rest of the crew have come by; depending on the answer they get will depend on how long they stay. If Nat has already been at one of the locations recently, then they’ll go to the next one. Leave a note with each trader and keep going. Bucky’s job will be to make sure the crew does not catch any wind of their plan, because as soon as they find Natasha and the rest of his crew, both he and Bucky are running from Hydra. They are going to build a life together, stay by each others’ sides until the end of time. They’ve only got each other now.

Steve pauses from his outlining, looking up to see Bucky quietly admiring him. “What?”

“Nothin’,” Bucky mutters, shaking his head with a chuckle as he looks back at the map. “It’s nothin’.” Steve rolls his eyes and gets back to work, trying his hardest to remember every spot his crew used to land. It takes him a few minutes to finish his work, but once he does he pulls away with a satisfied smile, blowing softly over the parchment to help dry the ink.

“Got ‘em all?” 

“Yeah I think so, but I’ll add more if I remember them later.”

Bucky nods and gathers the top edges of the map, lifting it from the desk and taking it to the wall beside the bed. Steve watches as Bucky gazes over the wood boards, deciding where best to put the map before the alpha calls him over, asking him to bring some nails and his hammer. He joins his side in moments, dragging a chair over with then items in hand.

Steve carefully steps up on the seat, holding up the map’s corners as Bucky hammers the nails on the left side into place. Bucky’s hair is falling in his face but the brunet makes no move to fix it, instead focusing on the task at hand; Steve wants nothing more than to run his hands through it, mess it up or braid it just like he used to.

He misses a lot of what he used to do, things he did before Bucky… well, he doesn’t like to think about what Bucky did, it hurts too much. But he misses the laughs they used to share, how they’d hold each other close at night and share whispers under the blankets. Steve misses how easy everything was, how everything seemed to make sense as long as Bucky was by his side.

Yet now… there’s so much tension in the room that one could cut it with a knife. It’s not bad in its entirety, because Steve  _ does _ love Bucky and he  _ knows _ that Bucky loves him back. But it’s almost as if Bucky is terribly afraid of messing up again, every action fidgety and cautious. And Steve feels so awful about it, almost as if it was his fault… Yet Bucky reminds Steve how much he loves him nearly every minute, looking up at him with a smile before breathing out those three little words that send Steve’s heart racing each time he hears them. Bucky hugs him often as well, tight hugs that are the definition of safety. And he hasn’t kissed Steve in what feels like forever; ever since Bucky helped him get through his bout of sickness, he only kisses Steve on the forehead or his temple. Steve understands the sentiment, and he’s grateful for it, yet he simply wishes that Bucky would understand that he does not have to worry; Steve is staying, regardless of what may happen.

“Careful, Stevie. You’re standing close to the edge of that chair,” Bucky walks over to him and guides him back to the centre of the seat, a steady hand resting on the small of his back and the other on his stomach. Steve blushes furiously, tucking his face into his forearm are he continues to hold the map steady, only listening as Bucky strolls back and finishes with the left side.

“I’m very careful, I’m not going fall off a chair,” Steve finally mutters, the feeling of Bucky’s hand over his own making him glance up. Steve moves his hands over a bit to give Bucky room to nail in the parchment, leaning over dangerously so he can still reach it.

“When you fall off the chair, I’m going say ‘ _ I told you so’ _ ,”

“Mmm go ahead, I’m not going to–” But Steve’s foot slips before he can finish his sentence. He lets out a small yelp as he collides with the floor, rolling over onto his back with a groan. Bucky rushes to his side, getting on his knees beside him. “Are you hurt?”

“I thought you were gonna say ‘ _ I told you so’ _ ,” Steve mumbles, smirking up at Bucky even though his ass is still stinging from the fall. Bucky rolls his eyes and helps him to his feet, sitting Steve down on the bed as he goes back to finishing the map. He attempts to protest but Bucky orders him to sit while he finishes up, but it’s not much of a punishment because Bucky’s ass looks great in those pants and his staring is not at all subtle. 

One day they’ll be back to normal, back to the way they were before this all happened. Steve knows it.

___________________________________________________________

 

It’s much later when Bucky comes back from his evening shift out on deck, the moon flooding through the window of his cabin as the alpha steps quietly through the door. There’s no need really, Steve has been awake for hours, unable to fall asleep due to the billions of thought flying through his head. He’s still thinking when Bucky crawls into bed beside him, wrapping a muscular arm around his middle and pulling him against his chest with a contented sigh.

Steve wants to cry.

He wants to curl up into a ball and let the world eat away at him.

He doesn’t deserve this; all the love and cherishment Bucky shows him. Granted, Bucky hurt him. Hurt him so horribly that living without him seemed like a chore, an obligation, something he didn’t want anymore. A life without Bucky was not a life he found worth living. So he let himself go, stopped taking care of himself because it simply didn’t seem to matter. Nothing did. He got sick. Got so sick that he felt like he was dying from the inside out, and then… then Bucky came back. Steve’s knight in shining armour in the final hours of his life, and began adding minutes to his timeline once again.

With love and compassion, tenderness and care, Bucky slowly brought him back. Steve forgave him for what he had done because he finally understood  _ why _ Bucky did such a thing. That doesn’t mean the pain he had felt was in any way dulled or gone; it’s still here, deep in his chest as a buried reminder of what Bucky did. But Steve forgave him because he understood, and with that sense of understanding he grew to love Bucky more than he thought possible.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Bucky whispers quietly, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s shoulder. He smiles to himself, cuddling closer to the alpha’s chest. Steve hears Bucky chuckle to himself and feels the arm around his waist tighten. “Good night Stevie, I love you baby.”

And Steve wants to cry again. He’s a dam about to explode, he’s so goddamned overwhelmed. How can Bucky love him out of all the omegas on the planet? What makes  _ him _ so special? 

Tears begin to pool in his eyes as Steve turns slowly in Bucky’s hold, until they’re face to face, inches apart. It is incredibly dark in the room, but with the help of the moonlight streaming through the window of the cabin, Steve can see a loving smile on Bucky’s lips as he looks at him. Before he can stop himself, Steve’s reaching a hand up to lay his palm against Bucky’s cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin beneath it. The smile on the alpha’s lips grow as he moves his head slightly to kiss Steve’s palm.

“Hi sweetheart,” Bucky mumbles, eyes tired but so full of love. Steve doesn’t respond; he can’t. He’s too stunned by how beautiful the man before him truly is. His hair, a bit greasy from working, is as soft as silk; smooth tendrils cascading down his shoulders with such grace that the Queen would be jealous. The softness of his features, from his skin to his smile, the alpha’s body radiates a sense of kindness and safety. And those eyes… those eyes that Steve fell for the moment he saw them. He saw his future through Bucky’s eyes. And through Bucky’s eyes Steve would come to see pain, isolation, regret, remorse… but most importantly, Steve came to see love through Bucky’s eyes.

Admiration. Joy. Humility. A place Steve could call his sanctuary, his home. A home that was nearly shattered to pieces by fear. By the senseless rules of a crippled empire. A home that Steve must protect with every ounce of his being, just as Bucky must do.

They’ll find a way. Together. They always do.

“Doll?”

Steve barely registers the pet name, at this point he doesn’t know anything but Bucky. He only wants to know Bucky. Without a breath or a thought to stop him, Steve leans forward and closes the gap between their lips.  _ God he’s missed this. _ The feeling of Bucky’s lips upon his own, the sensation familiar yet foreign all the same. And that’s when it hits him, he never asked if he could feel this again.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve stutters, not realizing that Bucky’s hand is tightening on his wait, pulling them closer together. “I can wait, I didn’t ask and I can wait–” But Bucky’s lips are on his before he can finish spewing out his apologies, the hand on his hip now holding on with a firm grip.

Steve wants to cry. Again and again and again, until he can’t stop crying. He wants Bucky with every aching bone in his body, so badly that he can’t even begin to describe it.

So Steve indulges in the feeling of Bucky’s hands on his body, his own pulling the alpha’s face closer until there’s hardly any room for them to breathe. He indulges so much so that, in seconds, Steve has Bucky on his back and he’s straddling him, their lips unparting all the while.

“Let me have you just for tonight? Please Stevie, God let me have you,” Bucky grunts, his hands still on Steve’s hips, not daring to go any farther without permission. Steve nods profusely, but Bucky doesn’t seem to take it. The alpha asks for words, and Steve immediately complies. He’s desperate, he’s touch-starved, and he’s so in love with Bucky Barnes that he could die. With Steve’s spoken consent, Bucky’s hands begin to wander around, trailing over the familiar tracks of his body with the hunger of a starving man. Steve hangs on for dear life, becoming a whimpering mess within moments of being under Bucky’s touch.

“God I’ve missed you, Stevie. I’ve missed seein’ you like this.”

“Bucky, I–” Steve cuts himself off with a moan when Bucky angles his hips against Steve’s, his member grinding along the alpha’s thigh with fluid movements.

“That’s it Stevie, moan for me. I miss the sounds you make, doll. I miss you so much and you’ve been right here the whole time but… but it was different. I couldn’t have you, not like I used to. Not until you were ready.” Steve’s flipped onto his back, and he can’t– _ won’t _ – suppress the whimpers he’s letting out. He does not stop himself from muttering curses under his breath as Bucky kisses down his chest and to his stomach, unbuttoning his sleepshirt along the way before bundling it up and tossing it aside.

“My pretty omega… Christ, look at you. What did I do to deserve a beauty like you, huh?” Steve shakes his head, unable to come up with an answer because  _ he’s _ the lucky one. “I’d die a million times over to touch you just once. Over and over if I had to, I love you too much to do any less, Steven.”

Then Bucky’s hands are reaching for his shorts, before Steve sees it; the shift in Bucky’s demeanor. The alpha’s hands, once desperate and needy, stop short of the waistband, fingers tentatively tracing the border.

“Bucky…? What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t.”

“What did I do? Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it–”

“You did  _ nothing _ wrong, sweetheart,” Bucky cuts him off, not letting him continue more of his apologies. “Look at me, Steve. You did nothing wrong, you never have. I’m the one who fucked up. I pushed you away, I told you  _ horrible _ things, and even though I’m trying to fix it, I know I can’t change what I said to you. What I did. I… don’t deserve this. To hold you, to make love to you, do all the things I want to do with you and act like I’ve  _ earned _ that right when I really haven’t.”

Steve’s still stuck in a haze, guilt and fear all coiled up inside him because he blames  _ himself _ for everything that happened. It hasn’t hit him yet that Bucky is to blame, because he’s so afraid of losing the one person he loves most in the world. “But I… It’s my fault so why–”

“Your fault?  _ Your fault? _ Steve, this was not your fault. It was my fault, and I was so scared of losing you that… that I lost you regardless. Now I’ve got to earn you back. So Steve I won’t be fucking you tonight, but God knows how much I want to break this mattress,” Bucky finishes with a smirk, kissing across his cheek. “I love you, and I respect you too much to let myself touch you when I have yet to redeem myself.”

And finally, for the first time in what feels like forever, Steve begins to cry. Steve lifts himself up and crawls into Bucky’s lap, sobbing into his neck. It’s freeing in a sense; he stops blaming himself for Bucky’s actions, listening to more apologies that Bucky whispers into his ear. Indulges, once more, in the feeling of Bucky’s lips across his neck, over his cheek and ear as he consoles him quietly. He wants Bucky, so badly that it hurts, but if Bucky says they must wait, he’d wait until eternity. Because Steve, while still locked in a confused haze, he  _ understands _ Bucky now. Bucky isn’t ready, and neither is he. One day they will be, and they’ll get through it together.

___________________________________________________________

 

“Thank you,” Bucky pulls his head up, confused. He’s getting ready for the day, lacing up his boots from his seat at his desk when Steve speaks up, the omega still sitting on the bed with his hands folded in his lap. He frowns and stands up, walking over to him and kneeling on the floor before him, looking up at Steve. “For not letting it go further last night, it means a lot.”

“Well of course, sweetheart. We’ll know when we’re ready for that, yeah?” Bucky smiles up at him, and it grows when Steve smiles back, leaning down to press a kiss on his forehead. “I love you,” Steve whispers against his hairline, Bucky not hesitating to repeat the sentiment right after. “I love you more.” They say their goodbyes soon after, Bucky jogging over to give Steve one last kiss before heading out.

But he regrets leaving, he regrets opening that damn door. God, Bucky wishes he had stayed inside.

The second he steps outside, Bucky knows that something is wrong. His crew has arranged an aisle from his doorway, one he cautiously walks through, staring straight ahead to find Rumlow at the end. The door shuts loudly behind him, making Bucky flinch slightly as he takes one tentative step after the other. When he reaches Rumlow, he realizes that the rest of his crew has them both surrounded, a blockade formed from testosterone and filth.

“Rumlow, what is the meaning of this?” Rumlow only smiles before he walks towards Bucky, beginning to circle him like a predator does their prey. “I asked you a question, Rumlow. I expect a goddamn answer.”

“Oh look boys! Our  _ Captain _ is finally taking action again!” Rumlow sneers, pulling angry chuckles from the men around them. “Our big,  _ strong _ Captain, has decided that now would be a great time to get his shit together.” Bucky growls, his hand hovering over the dagger on his belt. His first thought goes to Steve, and he prays to God that the door to his cabin is locked and shut tight. “Watch yourself, Rumlow.”

“Oh, _ ‘Watch yourself, Rumlow,’ _ he says, like he still holds authority here. Dear God, you are such a sad sight to see, Barnes. So full of yourself, so sure of your environment, so–” Rumlow comes in close. “ _ Weak.” _ Bucky’s hand wraps around the handle of his blade, whipping it from its holder and bringing it to Rumlow’s throat. Yet before it can kiss the skin, Bucky’s being held back by two members of his crew, the dagger knocked out of his hand while his arms are restrained.

“I am your Captain, and I order you to release me  _ now _ –”

“He orders me, gentlemen!” Rumlow shouts with a laugh, but comes before him in moments. “You can’t tell me to do jack _ shit _ anymore. You ain’t got no power here anymore.” Bucky struggles in his crew members’ hold, wanting nothing more than to strangle the very life out of the alpha before him. They only hold him tighter, preventing escape of any kind by kicking the back of Bucky’s knees, causing him to fall to the ground.

“It’s time you learned something, Barnes,” Rumlow mutters, crouching down to get eye-level with him. He picks up the discarded knife, twirling in his fingers a few times before quickly pressing it against Bucky’s cheek.  _ I’m going to die here _ , Bucky realizes, swallowing the lump in his throat. He’s going to die, surrounded by a group of men he used to trust, who he used to risk his life for. Now they’ve gone against him, simply for falling in love. For feeling an emotion other than that of hate or anger. But if he has to die, then it’ll have been worth it; he met the love of his life, and he would do it all over again if he could. Break every rule, hide every kiss, just to say that Steve Rogers was his.

“You don’t give the orders here anymore, Barnes–”

A gunshot explodes through the air, making Rumlow stand quickly and turn around. When Bucky sees who fired the shot, his face goes pale and he struggles to free himself even harder.  _ Steve _ . Emerging from the ring of alphas is his little omega, and Bucky has never felt such fear.

“Let him go. Now.” Steve shouts, chest heaving and shaking.  _ God he’s shaking so hard _ . Bucky wants nothing more than to take him into the comfort of his arms, away from this scene. Steve, being so goddamn brave, making him so fucking proud, but also scaring the shit out of him because all that omega has is a gun in his hand, against an entire crew of angry alphas.

“Oh how  _ cute _ _!_ Barnes’ little fucktoy has a gun, shit that’s just adorable. What are you gonna do, shoot me?”

“No. I’m going to shoot him.” As quick as lightning, Bucky watches as Steve elbows the alpha beside him in the gut, sending the man to the ground as he clutches his abdomen. Steve angles the gun to the alpha’s head. “Funny when feelings get involved, isn’t it Rumlow?”

_ “Rollins,” _ Bucky hears Rumlow mutter under his breath, the alpha’s entire demeanor shifting to a different plane. Bucky can practically smell the fear emanating from him. Rumlow begins to walk towards Steve, Bucky nearly breaking his arms to escape.  _ Don’t touch him, don’t you fucking dare touch him. _ “Let go of him now–”

Steve cocks the gun ready. “Take one more step and your alpha dies.” That makes Rumlow stop in his tracks. Bucky realizes that Rollins isn’t the least bit phased, and that would terrify him if he hadn’t remembered: Steve and Rollins are friends on this ship, and he knows for sure that there is some sort of fallout between Rollins and Rumlow. Rollins isn’t afraid because he’s  _ letting _ Steve hold him hostage. “Okay. Okay. Put the gun down and we’ll talk about this.”

“You let your Captain go, I keep this gun on Rollins’ head,  _ then _ we can have a nice long discussion. Unless you want him dead  _ now _ , which is fine by me–”

“No!” Rumlow shouts hoarsely, but collects himself and repeats. “No.” With a wave of his hand, Bucky is released and dropped to the ground. “There. Now please put the gun–”

“You ask me to put this gun down one more time, I will shoot him. No hesitation,” Steve states firmly, making his point clear by pressing the gun closer to Rollins’ temple. “Any of you assholes touch Barnes, he dies. Anyone touches me, he dies. Is that understood?” No one answers, the alphas looking at each other like they are confused if Steve is bluffing or not. Steve growls and moves the gun slightly to the left, shooting into the deck. “I asked you fuckers a question!  _ Am I understood?! _ ”

The affirmative responses are quick to follow, pulling a satisfied smile on Steve’s face.  _ That’s my boy. _ “I’m glad. One wrong move and your little ‘fucktoy’ dies, understood Rumlow?” Rumlow growls, but sighs dejectedly, knowing full-well that he’s lost. “I understand.”

“Great. Now that we’re all on the same page, it’s time to set some rules.  _ My rules. _ To start, don’t even fucking think about rebelling. Barnes is your Captain and you’ll regard him as such.” This pulls some unnerved groans from the alphas. “Did I say you could talk? No. Which, thank you  _ very _ much gentleman, leads me to my next point. No one here speaks unless spoken to, you guys don’t get to have a fucking opinion after today.”

“Oh come on,” One of the alphas who had grabbed Bucky shouts, stepping forward with his arms crossed.  _ You’re going to regret that, _ Bucky thinks to himself, looking up at the man. “Rumlow, you can’t expect us to listen to–” He’s cut short by a shot to the chest, his lifeless body falling to the ground. Bucky smirks as he watches Steve bring the barrel of the gun to his lips, gently blowing away the steam.

“ _ I said, _ no one speaks unless spoken to. You all answer to Barnes or to me. That’s it. Is that clear?” The response is clearer this time, the alphas hunkering down under Steve’s umbrella of authority and muttering a simple, ‘Yes sir’. 

“Fantastic, I’m so happy that we all understand each other. Love, could you come here please?” Steve calls out to him, Bucky pulling a grin across his lips as he stands. He walks past Rumlow, happily shoulder-checking him on the way. When Bucky reaches Steve, he wraps one arm around the omega’s waist and pulls him in close, kissing him like his life depends on it. Bucky doesn’t miss the sounds of shock around them, but that only makes him kiss Steve harder.  _ To hell with all of them. _ Steve smiles against his lips, but his poor baby is still shaking so fucking hard. He wants to tuck him away, save him from this. But he wouldn’t dare put a stop to Steve now.

“Hold this for me,” Steve whispers, moving so Bucky can stand where he is, the gun now in his hand. Steve walks in front of Rumlow, staring up at the alpha, before sucker punching him right in the face. Bucky couldn’t be more proud, watching Rumlow stagger backwards like a helpless fool.

“Fuck you. Fuck you for trying to take him away from me. Fuck you Rumlow, I should have aimed better when I stabbed you so long ago. Mark my words, when the day comes, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you and I’ll enjoy it. But not before I make you suffer, not until I make you  _ beg _ me to kill you. Fuck you.” Bucky has never seen fear in that man’s eyes, but the look Rumlow is giving Steve… it’s worse than fear, it’s sheer terror.

“Everyone back to work now!” Steve steps back, yelling at the crew. “No fucking questions, no goddamn excuses. Barnes  _ is _ your Captain, and you all are going to respect that. And get this fucker off the deck, I won’t stand to have a rotting corpse on this ship.” The crew disperses without hesitation, clearly too afraid to do anything less. Steve steps over the dead body with ease, striding back over to Bucky and Rollins. Steve grabs at Rollins’ shirt collar and tugs him upward, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go,” Steve growls, shoving him in the direction of Bucky’s cabin. Bucky follows behind, pride swelling in his chest at the bravery of his omega’s actions. Steve opens the door and shoves Rollins inside, Bucky closing the door behind the three of them.

There’s nothing but ragged breathing for the first few seconds, the only noises in the room being their terrified breaths. Then Steve breaks out crying and rushes towards Rollins, engulfing him into a hug. “Are you okay? God Jack I’m so sorry, I hit you so hard and the gun– fuck, I had a  _ gun _ to your  _ head _ like it was  _ nothing?! _ ”

“Easy Steve, hey I’m okay. You did good. A bit unexpected and unconventional, but the look on Brock’s face was worth it. I knew that fucker still cared.” Steve laughs through the tears, pulling away from Rollins. Bucky smiles, even though part of him is a tad jealous over the fact that Rollins–Jack? Geez, he doesn’t even know his own crew– is hugging his omega, Bucky still smiles because his little omega saved his life. Steve separates from Jack and turns towards Bucky, a giant smile taking over the omega’s face as he runs towards him. Bucky opens his arms for Steve and wraps him in the tightest embrace known to man, tears spilling from his eyes as they both fall to their knees. “I knew something was wrong as soon as you didn’t lock the door after you left. I went out and I  _ saw you _ and–Bucky I could have lost you–”

“I had ‘em on the ropes,” Bucky mumbles, chuckling when he earns a smack on the arm.

“ _ Like hell you did?! _ ” Steve yells, but Bucky kisses along his cheek as he’s being chastised. Because now he has Steve in his arms, he can comfort his shaking omega and tuck him away, keep him safe. “Your dumbass didn’t have anyone on the ropes, don’t give me that bullshit.”

“I love you, my brave little omega.”

“I’m not brave,” Steve shakes his head, looking up at him. “I was shaking like a leaf, and I winged the whole thing ‘cause it was the only way to save you and–”

“You are,” Bucky interrupts, cupping Steve’s face in his hands. “The bravest person I’ve ever known.” They smile at each other, so wrapped up in themselves that Jack has to clear his throat to get their attention. “So,” Jack speaks up awkwardly. “What now, Captain?”

Bucky looks at Jack, studying him silently before shifting his gaze to Steve. The love of his life. His reason for living. Placing one more kiss on Steve’s lips, Bucky looks to the map nailed on the wall, a determined look spreading across his features. The crew is now under control, they no longer have to worry about threats from them. “Now, we go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you guys enjoyed, please be sure to leave a comment/kudos, the support keeps me writing :)
> 
> GUYS LOOK, ART (well, bad art by yours truly, but hehe. art)
> 
> SO REAL QUICK, forget that thing I said last time about selling hard copies. Did some searching and while I can sell them, it would be on some very thin ice and I don't want to risk it. So that being said, I'll probably be holding a giveaway once this story is all published. It's gonna be fuuuuuun!
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies!


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